No More Death: A Mark of Athena Fanfiction
by thein273
Summary: In life, there is a cycle by which all must abide. This is the story of what happens when death no longer rules. While the two camps prepare for war, another foe prepares an army of the dead. Rated T for death and blood. Minimal cursing.
1. Chapter 1

No More Death: Heroes of Olympus Story

**Author's Note and Disclaimer: All rights go to Rick Riordan and any references made in this story belong to those respective owners. A warning: There is character death and blood in this story. But I adhere to a very strict rule: Main characters cannot permanently die. So if you hate me for killing a certain individual, bear with me. It will be fixed.**

**Chapter One: The Blaze of Glory**

In life, there is a cycle by which all must abide. This is the story of what happens when death no longer rules.

It was raining. No, it wasn't raining. It was pouring icy white sheets down on the head of Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, which was only made worse by the fact she was some five hundred feet off the ground.

The day before, the Argo II, the brain child conceived and engineered by Leo Valdez, had set sail. Well, Annabeth guessed it set sail, seeming it was a ship. But the fact they were flying somehow threw off that sentence. Annabeth couldn't fathom the appropriate word to describe just what they had done. And as a daughter of wisdom, that was a very aggravating thing.

Leo materialized in front of her after opening the trapdoor he had personally installed. The strange thing was, Annabeth had seen him emerge from his hideout a hundred times before, but try as she might, she could never pinpoint its location. The curly-haired son of Hephaestus beamed at her, a small scroll clutched in his hand.

"What is this about, Valdez?" she asked, nodding at the paper he was holding. Then Piper McLean, daughter of Aphrodite, appeared beside her friend. She was smiling.

"I just sent a warning on ahead to Camp Jupiter. You know, so they don't shoot us out of the sky when we get there." Annabeth's eyes narrowed. Leo was constantly making snide jokes. Jokes she didn't much appreciate anymore since Percy's disappearance.

"And did you, by any chance, get authorization to do this before you went on ahead with your careless plan?" she asked calmly. Leo swallowed nervously.

"Well..."

Annabeth darted forward, drawing her knife and pressing the blade against his throat. She smiled at his look of fear.

"I didn't think so. For now, Valdez, I will let you off, mostly because I think this mistake will come back to bite you later. Next time, though, don't count on my mercy."

She sauntered off to the very visible trapdoor, the one concealing the many private rooms below deck. One of which was hers.

She crouched down and angled her head at the wooden deck. A strand of curly blonde hair fell into her face, and she sighed, releasing a puff of air that blew the obnoxious golden curl out of her eye. She lifted up the hatch, and the trapdoor easily glided open. It didn't so much as creek, as testament to the expert craftsmanship of those who constructed it. Annabeth gave a mental thank you to the Hephaestus cabin as she jogged down the steps to the rooms below.

There were a grand total of eight rooms. Eight rooms for seven prophecy members, which skewed Annabeth's math. Dyslexic or no, she knew how to subtract, and those numbers left one extra room. Perhaps, she reasoned, it was a type of guest house. Who knew, maybe they would need it.

Or it could be the room Annabeth was expected to sleep in on the way back to Camp Half-Blood, where she'd surely be dropped off as the seven set out to Greece. It required no discussion. Annabeth was not a destined member of the Great Prophecy, therefore she could not go. Of course, if Leo was concerned about housing arrangements, he could have predicted Annabeth's desire to sleep with Percy, as she had done a few times before. She missed the feeling of his deceivingly small, yet muscular arms wrapped around her. He snored, of course, but she'd never found it in herself to mind.

But now he was gone.

Her room was located at the very end of the hall. Before she reached it, the ship hit a bit of turbulence, and Annabeth had to lean against a door so she didn't fall down. Unfortunately, that door happened to belong to Jason Grace, whom she had been trying to avoid.

She had planned to recover and move past the door before he noticed the accidental knock. True to her constant, unchangeable luck, she didn't react in time, and stumbled into the room when Jason opened it. "Wah," she called out, saved only by Jason's left hand, which darted out to stop her. He smiled.

"Annabeth," he said. "Didn't think I'd see you again before we got to Camp Jupiter. It kind of seemed like you were avoiding me." Annabeth forced a smile.

"Of course not," she assured him.

"So what did you want to see me about?" She rolled her eyes.

"Nothing. I just knocked into your door by accident when we hit turbulence. It's fine." But it wasn't fine. Jason wasn't as smart as Annabeth, or, dare she admit it, Percy; but he wasn't stupid. He grabbed a chair propped against the wall and offered it to her. She gratefully declined.

"We both know that's a lie, Annabeth. You know something you don't want to tell us." Annabeth pursed her lips. She couldn't help but subconsciously compare Jason to her lost boyfriend, Percy Jackson. Superficially, the two were night and day. Percy had thick, silky black hair that he always complained about when Annabeth yanked it; and deep, mesmerizing green eyes. Eyes she hadn't looked at near enough times before he disappeared. Whereas Jason had short-cropped blonde hair and blue eyes. Jason was built more strongly, but honestly, Annabeth thought Percy was the better fighter.

Annabeth sat down on the chair, despite her prior refusal. Jason looked concerned. Then again, everyone looked concerned anymore. The days were ticking down to the big fight with Gaea. The fight that could kill any number of them any day. The fight that could take away her boyfriend again. Forever. "I had a dream." She said simply. It was a good beginning. Strong, like her. It didn't show any of the turmoil she felt inside.

Jason just nodded and motioned that she should elaborate. Annabeth had to credit him with a good listening ability. Possibility a trait developed from irregular amounts of time spent with Piper. It was obvious the two of them had a kind of cat and mouse relationship going on, like neither of them wanted to put themselves out there enough to admit their feelings for the other. It reminded Annabeth, painfully, of her younger years with Percy, when she acted much the same.

"I heard a voice, although I'm not sure if it was male or female. It was like a faded recording, really. But I could still understand the words. It said 'You seek a lost love, but do you know another grieves for you while you traipse hopelessly after one you have already lost?' At first, I didn't believe the voice. I assumed it was Gaea, but something told me it wasn't. It didn't have that sound to it. It didn't sound bewitching that way. Just...old. Before I could argue, it showed me something. Percy falling over the edge of a glacier, with a bunch of shades all around him. And...That's when I woke up."

Annabeth noticed the tears rolling down her cheeks shamefully. She tried to wipe it away nonchalantly, but she was afraid Jason had still seen. The son of Jupiter retained enough tact not to comment, though.

"Look, Annabeth...I'm sure Percy's fine. And he'll remember you." He added hopefully, clearly trying to lift her sagging spirits.

"Maybe," was all Annabeth could manage in response. She stood and looked up at Jason. Unable to conjure enough will to say goodbye, she feigned a choked smile and left. She heard Jason try to say something behind her, but his door closed before he could finish.

She walked over to her door and unlocked it. Hers was the only room with a key. The others all had the option, of course, but she was the only one who had asked so far. The others didn't mind intrusions. They didn't worry about someone accidentally walking in and seeing them in tears because of the unbearable pain they felt, both emotionally and physically. Annabeth sobbed silently late at night, arching her back in agony, feeling as it daggers were cutting into her skin. She knew she would feel the same tonight.

Every morning, she dabbed concealer under her eyes, hiding the bags, evidence to sleep deprivation she would not admit. There was no blood; even though Annabeth was sure the pain penetrated the skin, so it was not hard to hide the single wing on her back. It looked like gray Henna, and it was frighteningly beautiful.

Annabeth heard her door click behind her as it swung shut. She threw herself at her bed and buried her tear-streaked face in her favorite pillow. It had been a gift from Percy. He'd given it to her when they met up at camp. It was a beautiful gray silk embroidered will delicately sew-in owl designs. And it was quickly soaked with tears.

She hated thinking Percy was dead. She hated the way she had a nagging feeling Jason Grace had a big role to play in something she didn't understand. She hated how she treated everyone. And most of all, she hated the tattoo growing on her back every night.

She cried herself to sleep, and when she woke up, the ship was on fire.

* * *

Leo was the worst mechanic to ever grace the United States.

He had a terrible knack for screwing up everything he touched. Everything. First it was a stupid bronze dragon that he'd been thickheaded enough to grow attached to. Now it was a giant ship that was about to crash into the ground and kill all of his friends.

He hurried back and forth, checking the various compartments of the engine and smiling to demigods as they walked past, all excited about landing.

But they weren't going to land. They were going to crash. Unless Leo did something about it, and soon.

Piper caught him before he face-planted into the stairwell. He was going to simply walk past her with a pleasant grin, but Piper, being the ever-observant, noticed his unease. She steadied him and didn't let go, no matter how hard Leo fought. Finally, he gave up. Piper released him, and he tried to escape. Then she drew her Celestial bronze knife Katoptris and it was over. "Pipes, relax. I just have to check something before we land."

"Oh, yeah, sure, Valdez. You're rushing back and forth across the ship because there's nothing wrong." Piper rolled her eyes and cross her arms over her orange camp half-blood t-shirt, her knife still clutched in her right hand. Leo rocked back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels, debating what to tell Piper. She was his best friend, next to maybe Jason, but he didn't want to scare her. And the noises he heard coming from the engine room were definitely scary.

Leo was trying to think up a believable excuse, something to quell Piper's suspicions, but he had nothing. He opened his mouth awkwardly, but nothing, absolutely nothing, came to mind. That was particularly aggravating for Leo, considering he was always glib. Leo was simply never at a loss for words. It was impossible. He wouldn't have survived as long as he had if he wasn't a fast thinker. But blind panic had stolen all of his good comeback lines. All of his jokes. All of his believable lines. Everything, until he was left with: "I've got to do stuff."

Piper gaped at him. "Seriously, Leo? 'I've got to do stuff?' That was pathetic. What's wrong?" Leo bit his lip to keep from answering. That was the problem with Piper. She was a charm speaker, meaning she could convince people of anything, _anything_, and they wouldn't question it until way later. She could charm Leo into confessing some really personal stuff and wouldn't even know she had. It was scary to have a friend like that.

"It's fine. Just...last minute check." Once again, he attempted to move around her, but Piper stopped him. That was getting old. "Piper McLean, will you please stop?" Piper stepped back, and Leo knew the gig was up.

"What is going on?" she asked, this time a little fearfully. Great, now he had to tell her or her imagination would blow it out of proportion. "It's the engine, isn't it?" Leo resisted the urge to smack her. She should have been a daughter of Athena like Annabeth, not some Aphrodite clone. Which she wasn't, but still...

"It's doesn't sound 's a problem, but I have to check before I can tell exactly what it is. And I need to get to the engine room to do that." He narrowed his eyes at her, and she stepped aside without further complaint. He raced past, opened the hatch, and climbed down. What he saw stopped his heart.

The entire engine room was in flames. The blast of heat was intense, even for him, a fire user. The fire couldn't harm him, that he knew, but it didn't make it any less daunting, diving into a swirling inferno. Leo mustered his courage and started deeper inside.

He had nothing to kill the fire. No fire extinguisher, no water, nothing. It had already consumed most of the engine room, and the logical fear creeping up in Leo's chest was that the engine was already beyond repair. And even if he had something to attack the flames with, it wouldn't be enough. They were going to destroy his ship. And he couldn't let that happen.

But then he thought of everyone else. They flames were spreading like some sort of epidemic. It was too late to extinguish them. There was only one way.

Leo shot out of the open hatch, barreling through flames and heat as he made his way to the front of the ship. He grabbed the microphone and switched it on. His breath boomed throughout the ship.

"Crew of the _Argo II_, this is your commander Valdez speaking. Abandon..." he swallowed. Those around him stared; waiting for the word they knew finished the order. "Abandon ship."

Chaos erupted as soon as the last syllable left his mouth. Everyone made a mad-dash for the parachutes, shored onboard in case of emergency. This was certainly an emergency.

He could hear campers screaming as they futilely batted at the flames in their way, people calling out for friends or family before they leapt over the edge. Leo watched as the outline of Camp Jupiter became visible in the distance. Below the majestic ship, hills passed by, hills into which many of the evacuees landed on after their desperate escape.

He could no longer perceive the passing of time. He himself felt frozen, like a ghost watching from afar as everything around him fell apart. And he was not ashamed to realize there were tears in his eyes.

"LEO!" he heard Piper scream. He turned around and saw her, her parachute strapped to her back. Nyssa stood beside her, also wearing one. Both of the girls looked at him desperately."Grab a parachute!"

That's when he saw Annabeth, dazed and confused, staggering across the ship, narrowly missing the flames. Her blonde hair was in disarray, her gray eyes glazed over. She looked at him, then at the fire, and realization dawned on her face. She ran for the parachutes. Piper and Nyssa continued staring at Leo, ready to jump.

Leo made his way to the parachutes, like he was walking through a dream, and saw that there was only one left. Only one for him and Annabeth both. He exchanged looks with the daughter of Athena, who looked shocked. She shook her head in disbelief, then motioned that he should take it.

Leo hesitated. Sure, he was supposedly part of this Great Prophecy, but something told him Annabeth was important too. Probably more than him. Anyone was more important than some lame mechanic who occasionally and unexpectedly burst into flames. But that was the thing. Not taking the parachute meant Leo would die. And Leo didn't want to die.

The fire raged around him, and all four half-bloods stared in stunned silence at the single parachute. Finally, Leo made his decision. He reached for the parachute.

Annabeth smiled weakly.

Leo handed her the parachute."Go,"he told her quietly. She stared at it in a mixture of awe and surprise."Go,"he insisted. "Find your boyfriend," Tears were in her eyes.

"Leo..." she whispered, starting to push it back toward him, but Leo shoved it into her arms. She looked taken aback by his determination.

"Go," he repeated again. She shook her head like she couldn't believe what he was doing. What he was sacrificing. And honestly, Leo couldn't either.

Annabeth looked like she wanted to continue arguing, but then a minor explosion shook the ship. Leo glanced over his shoulder and saw that the smoking Argo was headed straight for the side of the mountain, which bloated out the view of Camp Jupiter. Reacting with the instinct gifted to him at birth, Leo yanked back on the controls and brushed against the rock, a great metal screech echoing through his ears.

He looked back at his friends, who all stared at him in shock. Annabeth still held the parachute like she couldn't believe anything that was happening. Leo sighed hopelessly. "Go," it seemed to be the only word he could manage anymore. The three girls stood frozen by his selfless act. He looked down and saw that it was back to endless hills.

The ship was starting to approach Camp Jupiter. It was getting dangerously close. Leo pursed his lips. "Go, now. I have to tell them you're coming. Go," This time, he couldn't face his friends.

Suddenly, arms wrapped around him and a pair of lips pecked his. He was shocked. Piper's tearful face came into view, and she choked, "You deserved that at least once." Then she jumped over the edge. He watched her fall until she was out of sight.

Nyssa ran up to him and flung her arms around his neck. "Goodbye, Leo." She said. "You were my favorite brother."And then she too was gone.

All that was left was him and Annabeth.

Smoke and fire raged around them, but it was like they were guarded, at least temporarily, from the danger. They stared at each other, neither speaking nor really acknowledging the other's existence save for that lingering stare. The stare that Leo knew meant he was still alive. He never wanted to look away.

A small thought crossed his mind. Annabeth's was the last human face he would ever see. It wasn't exactly an encouraging thought.

Annabeth tried to smile, but instead she grimaced. Slowly, reverently, she put on her parachute, tightening the straps so that it wouldn't come off mid-flight. Wouldn't that make this whole thing needless? In his mind, Leo laughed at his joke, but he couldn't share it. The weight of the moment had left him without the English language.

Instead of trying to speak, Leo fell back to the only thing he could somehow remember to do. He tapped out Morse code. _You deserve to be with someone you love. _He didn't expect Annabeth to answer, but to his surprise, she did.

_Thank you_. She tapped her finger against his shoulder, which she had just squeezed. _You too._

_Tell them I'm sorry. _He replied, tears in his eyes.

_I will_. And that was it. There was nothing left to say. Nothing that could be conveyed in Morse code at least. It was a small condolence that Annabeth understood Morse code. Leo needed the communication, and his voice had failed him. But now, though, words had run dry. There was no language on the planet that could properly convey the fear of death. The fear of imminent, inevitable death.

Annabeth walked over to the side and climbed on the edge. She balanced when the ship shook after another miniature explosion jerked the _Argo II_. She looked back at Leo, and he met her gray eyes with fear. He didn't want to die. Annabeth hesitated, but then he hardened his resolve and nodded. Without another word or gesture in farewell, Annabeth jumped down to the hills below.

Leo ran to the side and watched her form disappear. He considered lowering the _Argo II_ low enough for him to make a getaway, but it wasn't possible. Even if he couldn't get close enough to those hills without turning over the ship, he simply could not regulate speed. And as fast as she was going, his descent would be over in a few seconds, but his life wouldn't. He imagined lying on the ground, broken in every bone he could name, and several he couldn't, not even able to call for help. Completely defenseless. Paralyzed.

No, it was better this way. Leo would not burn to death. Being a fire user would save him from that. But it wouldn't save him from the Earth-shattering kaboom that he knew was coming. The final, fatal bang that ended in all in a flash of light.

"Going out in the blaze of glory,"Leo mused. He seemed to have recovered his voice, now that there was no one but himself to listen. Now that he was alone. He supposed it was fitting, this end. Fire raging around him, finally reaching him, standing at the front of the ship. He was completely surrounded, covered in flames. He was literally going out in the blaze of glory.

Leo realized that he had been a normal demigod; the flames would be eating at him now. He would die slowly and painfully. It finally dawned on him why he'd been born a fire user. It wasn't as a gift or salvation to the world. It was a courtesy to Hephaestus' son, a type of way to ease his passing. Burning to death would have been horrible. But this way, one quick explosion, and it was all over. One last, fateful bang and Leo would feel no more. "Thanks, dad."

He couldn't help but envy the others. They would get to see Camp Jupiter. Well, maybe he could see it before them.

He flew the ship toward the market and studied the camp from above. He pulled up the _Argo II_ and waved down at the people below. He saw campers in purple bed sheets and brandishing spears or short swords. They cowered in the shadow of the ship as it passed over them. He laughed, for some reason finding it incredibly funny, although he wasn't even sure what.

He came to a conclusion. Death was the most freeing thing in the world.

Everyone gawked at the majestic shape passing above them, and Leo smiled. Actually, this was turning out to be a pretty good day.

He closed his eyes, already feeling the disturbance in the wind. He knew it was coming. He was braced for it. He was ready. And he no longer cared.

Leo Valdez was ready to die.

He could hear the countdown in his mind. A female voice rang through his skull, a familiar voice he recognized to be his mother's. _I love you, sweetie. _She said in Spanish, and Leo relaxed.

There was a brilliant, searing flash of light, burned into his eyes, and then there was nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: Tragedy**

The assembled cohorts were mesmerized by the pure majesty of the ship passing above them, so large and breath-taking that it literally bloated out the sun. Percy couldn't suppress the smile stretching across his face at the thought of seeing his old girlfriend again. He was self-consciously adjusting his hair and clothes, tossing aside the purple toga and sprinting to the market with Hazel and Frank right behind him.

Reyna hitched a ride on her Pegasus as he flew by, grabbing onto his saddle and disappearing into the sky. There, too, was a giant grin on her face. At first, Percy half expected her to meet the ship midway, but she apparently thought better of it at the last minute and landed in front of the growing crowd.

Being praetor had its benefits, because as soon as Percy approached the masses, they made a very neat and clear isle for him to walk through. He slowed down when the others could see him, trying to maintain the image of control and discipline. But still, there was a spring in his step.

The shadow passed over their heads, but to everyone's surprise and alarm, it wasn't landing. It was passing straight overhead, past the crowd and the Forum, making no sign as if it was landing. "I was under the impression your friends would be visiting us, Praetor sir." Said a rather cocky and irritating voice from behind Percy. He whirled around and saw the source of his irritation.

The blonde-haired legacy of Apollo stood next to a glowering Frank, and gutted teddy bear in one hand and a ceremonial knife in the other. To the average eye, Octavian wouldn't look very threatening. He was so pale and skinny that blowing on him could shatter him into a million pieces, and he seriously needed about a dozen cheeseburgers loaded up into his system, but despite his deceitfully slight build, Octavian was quite possibly the most dangerous member of Camp Jupiter.

Not only was he the augur, meaning he had the supposed ability to read the will of the gods, but he also held even more clout because of his high rank as centurion of the First Cohort, which up until recently had been the best of all five. He had a huge following that could only be classified as disciples, as blind as they listened to him. To that group of disillusioned demigods, Octavian was a god. It had been the skinny speaker that just moments ago had nearly gotten the arriving delegates of Camp Half-Blood into serious trouble.

Percy had lost his memory several months ago, and ever since had been roaming the western side of the country trying to find Camp Jupiter, and, later on, complete a dangerous quest. That was really how he got to be such close friends with Hazel and Frank, the people who had gone with him. When they returned after freeing Death, they found Camp Jupiter in the midst of a struggle against Gaea's, Mother Earth's, forces. Percy himself had been forced to kill one of Gaea's own sons, Polybotes, who was leading the assault. That was how he earned the praetorship.

But Octavian had had his designs set on that position a lot longer than Percy had even known it existed. After the boy on _probatio_ scored the highest rank in the Twelve Legion, Octavian's already festering hate towards him grew. Percy was more than a little afraid to fall asleep nowadays.

Despite his uneasiness around the augur, Percy leveled stares with him and smiled pleasantly. "They are probably just landing in the Field of Mars, Octavian. No need to be alarmed."

That was when the explosion shook the world.

The ground trembled with such force that Percy hardly believed the sudden _bang! _was responsible for it. But it couldn't be argued. The ship passing overhead, the _Argo II_ had blown up. Fire fell to earth after the explosion, the earthquake ended as suddenly as it had come.

Percy stared at the sky and the ruins falling to earth, uncomprehending. He was dreaming. He had to be. His friends had been on that ship. They couldn't possibly be dead.

But when a piece of smoldering metal landed on Percy's arm, he could no longer pretend it was his own mind playing tricks on him.

"No!" someone wailed, and Percy realized it was him. He fell to his knees in shock and horror, and then quickly stood under the false impression that he could save them. He ran over to the earth just below the explosion and looked around for a way to get up there and save them. But nothing presented itself.

"Frank!" he called over to his stunned friend. "Help!" Frank turned to look at him and just shook his head. Percy's lip curled and he growled. "Fine, I'll do it myself." He climbed to the roof of the Senate Building, trying to get himself high enough to save his no doubt distressed friends. They could be trapped in the remnants of that flying ship. They could be injured. He had to help them.

"Reyna!" he shouted from his elevation. His fellow praetor looked up at him and her eyes widened. "Get up here! Jason's on that thing!" Reyna wheeled her Pegasus around and spurred him into the air. Percy blew out a sigh a relief and prepared to jump on, but to his surprise and anger, Reyna landed on the roof. "What are you doing? There's no time to lose!" Reyna let her head drop like she'd dealt with hysterical praetors before.

"No, Percy." She said. "We've already lost." When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. Percy stumbled backward like he'd been hit. "That explosion...they're gone." He shook his head in denial, not wanting to believe what he already knew to be true.

"They can't be." he told her firmly. "I don't know about Jason, but the others are strong enough to pull themselves through. They're alive." The last was said only to himself. Reyna laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, and he pulled away, not wanting her sympathy or grief. They were alive. They had to move.

"Percy, I know you've been through a lot, but no one can bring the dead back to life. I'm sorry, but Jason and your friends are lost forever." She sounded so empathetic, like she knew his pain, like she understood his insistence to the contrary. Like she understood him. But she didn't get it. He'd seen those people fight a war and come out smiling. They had survived that. He knew they had. Because if they hadn't, Percy was alone.

It wasn't the first time Percy had ever felt abandoned. Now that he had his memories back, he knew that. But he had always had the option of going home. He had always been able to return to Camp Half-Blood and hug his friends, say his apologies. He couldn't comprehend the possibility of not having that anymore.

Annabeth had been on that ship.

Cold, frozen tears cascaded down his face as he fought against the weight pressing down on him. Half-blind by the water in his eyes, he tried to look up at the Titan standing tall above him, watching triumphantly as his victim struggled to free himself from under the weight.

Not long ago, he remembered being in paradise, sipping from a glass of endless nectar, eating from plates of infinite delicacies. He conversed with friends he had long thought dead and gone. Of course, they were dead. As a matter of fact, so was he.

Now, he was in Hell.

"Ah!" he grunted under the sky, shifting his weight desperately, trying not to let his legs give out from under him. The Titan in front of him laughed gleefully, like he loved torturing his victims. His brown silk suit moved from the rising and falling of his chest. His dark skin accented his suit well, and the malicious gleam in his eyes made him look like the evilest man alive. Only he wasn't a man. He was far older than the race of Man. He was a Titan.

His slick black hair was oiled back professionally, and he saw some blood drip from his fingers. The Titan favored him with a look of such anger and contempt that it could hardly be called an expression. The air literally rippled from the glint in his eyes, the fulfillment of getting revenge. He had felt that many times before, and now it left him feeling hallow and evil.

The Titan leaned in close enough so he could whisper in his prey's ear. "You are now my slave. When your time is done, another will take your place, and you will be forced to serve me however else I desire. And you will serve me." No matter how hard he struggled, he could no longer hold the sky. He didn't want to let go, for fear of causing the world to fall apart, but his body simply could do it no more. He strained one last time, muscles shaking so forcefully that his slick palms slipped and the invisible barrier and he crumpled to the ground.

Seconds before he was crushed by the sheer magnitude of rock and the weight of the sky, the Titan caught the sky one handed and barked an order to the sentinel standing right beside the bar-less prison. The victim had not seen him before, but now that he did, he recognized him. An African-American boy with a hammer clutched in his hand. One arm was tied above him on a dead branch hanging overhead, and the other looked so beaten it was shocking he could hold his weapon.

"You, Charlie, get that pretty one. It's her turn." The boy shot forward toward the Titan, his face contorted in a mixture of anger and pain.

"Don't call me Charlie!" he roared, fighting with the cuffs holding him in place. The Titan just laughed. "And you can't touch her!"

A deep chuckle rolled through the air and the Titan raised his voice, calling out to the line of prisoners, all doing some form of back-breaking work. A black-haired girl came into view, being dragged along by an empousa. She said nothing as she was led to the place he had just seconds ago been trapped. He looked up at her and grimaced.

"Silena, I..." Silena turned her sorrowful to him and lifted up her arms, pressing her palms up against the invisible barrier and taking a deep breath. The whole time, the boy, Charlie, screamed through tears, because they were whipping him. Silena did not look at him, though he could see the pain in her eyes.

The Titan released the sky, and Silena struggled under the weight. She stared at the man on the ground in desperation. "Run," she mouthed, and he hesitated. How far could he run before they caught him? It wasn't worth the pain after he was captured. "You are our only chance." She said so quietly no one but him could hear. "Please, Luke. This is your chance to make amends. Help us,"

That was all he needed. His resolve strengthened, he pushed himself to his feet and ran as fast as he could down the mountain, the hounds of hell and worse in hot pursuit. Winding down the roads and jumping over rocks, he kept sprinting until his legs gave way, miles and miles away from his prison. He could see the storm growing from where he had just come, but it was far enough away that he thought Silena had told him the right thing.

There was only one place to go for help. He only hoped they would listen the man who betrayed them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three: Lost**

Jason watched from afar as the ship reached an ultimate elevation of one thousand feet and exploded in a fiery ball. He closed his eyes, unsurprised. It wasn't as if the explosion had been avoidable. Once Leo called the mass evacuation, Jason knew the ship was lost. Leo would not have abandoned it unless there was no other way.

Like a coward, Jason had been one of the first off the ship, immediately throwing on his parachute and jumping over the side. He could've left the thing behind, but Leo said he'd equipped the ship with parachutes for everyone onboard, and Jason didn't figure on wasting one in the fire.

As he began his controlled descent to the earth, it occurred to him that he hadn't even stayed and waited for any of his friends. In his excitement and panic, he had simply left them all behind and saved himself selfishly. He wondered about Piper and Leo. Piper would talk Leo away from the controls and into a parachute, Jason knew that, but she might have a problem doing so. And if, in her fear, she assumed Leo would do it on his own...Jason was worried. There were people on that ship that would literally die for it, and Leo was one of them.

He had seen so many jump ship that he couldn't believe anyone had stayed onboard. There was no saving that ship. It was simply too far gone to redeem. But still, he worried. He had a feeling in his gut that not everyone had made it off safely.

He turned around and groaned at the dozen half-bloods all falling over themselves in haste and fear. Arguments had broken out among them, three way slugfests, and two person enemies squaring it off, loud, venomous insults being shouted over the clamor. It was murder on the ears, Jason decided.

He put his foot down when Travis Stoll was decked at his feet. "Stop!" he shouted, his voice putting all the others to shame. Clarisse la Rue froze, her fist drawn back and ready to punch Will Solace in the nose. Drew turned in alarm toward him, looking like she'd just seen him in a different light. Jake Mason, Leo's half-brother, was in the face of another large boy, probably a son of Ares. Daughter of Ares, he corrected mentally when the girl turned to favor him with a cold stare.

"Our ship just exploded, and you're all too busy fighting each other to care." he said impatiently, trying to bring it home how selfish they were being. It was a little hypocritical of him, but he had to stop the fighting. He helped Travis to his feet and checked his broken nose with a wince. Blood was pouring from his nostrils, and Jason just lifted Travis' hand and made him stem the flow. Jason wasn't particularly weak-stomached, but the amount of blood on his face was nauseating.

Jason helped him onto a rock and turned to face the now stunned crowd of half-bloods. "Now, can we just start moving before monsters find us?" That seemed to work. Everyone immediately started shuffling forward like a horde of zombies, past Jason and the bloody Travis, who looked pretty pale from loss of blood. "What are you, a hemophiliac?" Travis winced and nodded, making Jason feel even worse.

While Travis leaned against him limply, Jason trailed along behind the others, but not by far. They weren't exactly moving with a need for speed.

Finally, Jason had to stop. His breath was coming in short, rapid pants and his orange shirt was drenched with sweat. Travis had fainted from blood loss, making Jason paranoid about dragging him along or leaving him behind. One injury and the guy was a goner. Then he had an idea he should have gotten when he saw Travis' broken nose.

He pulled out the bag of ambrosia squares from his pocket and handed Travis just one. The son of Hermes groggily took the offering and popped it in his mouth like a pill. Seconds later, he was running at the front of the crowd, waving at the others to hurry up.

Jason growled. "Should've let him bleed to death,"

"Yeah, you should've." Agreed a female voice from behind him. He turned and the others walked past him wordlessly. "Travis is almost as annoying as Will."

Clarisse's reddish brown hair was tied back with a skull-and-cross-bone bandana, her spear, Maimer, clutched in her right hand. She grimaced at Jason, and he figured that was her best smile. Clarisse was notoriously anti-social.

"What's with you and Will anyway? You two look like you're out for blood most of the time." Clarisse looked up at him, her expression dead serious.

"We are."

Jason decided not to pester her more about that. He turned to head off after the others, but then Clarisse called after him. "Wait," she said. She pushed herself off the rock she was propped against and jogged up behind him. "How many do you think made it off?" she angled her head upward, and Jason knew what she was asking. He sighed.

"I don't know. I think all of them, but then again...something tells me we lost one." Clarisse nodded.

"Who do you think it is?" she asked, none of the usual venom in her voice. Jason was taken aback by how calm she was, when less than an hour ago she was beating Will's face in with her fist. It was unnerving.

Jason didn't want to answer. He didn't want to even consider the prospect of one of the campers dying aboard the _Argo II_, but his pessimistic voice told him it was someone important. He looked at the still smoking area of sky in the distance, remembering the flash of light when the _Argo II _exploded.

Clarisse was waiting for an answer, and Jason couldn't give her one. "I don't know." He admitted dejectedly. Clarisse scoffed at him and turned her head to the left, at the endless array of hills stretching forever.

"You don't know," she started darkly. "Or you don't want to know?" Jason averted his eyes in shame, and she shoved past him. "Figures." She muttered. "There are no heroes. Just cowards and fakes."

Clarisse marched ahead of the zombie crowd and Travis, who shied away from her when she approached. "C'mon!" she shouted irritably. "Put some effort in it." The others grumbled insults at the female drill sergeant, but they moved a little faster after that.

As they made their way through rocks and hills, it became apparent that they had no idea where they were going. They just knew they wanted to find Camp Jupiter, and that was west, but they had lost their sense of direction while trying to cut past all the grassy mounds. Eventually, Jason was forced to call for camp, and everyone picked a rock to sleep on. Being the unofficial leader, Jason took first watch, sitting on a tall hill above their camp and scanning the horizon. The sun set behind him, and at least he knew which direction was west.

Then Clarisse forged up the hill, her spear still in hand. Jason was pretty sure that thing was sown into her hand. When she spotted Jason at the crest, she headed towards him. Jason was more than a little surprised. "Sorry about before," Her apology sounded pretty fake.

"What about?" Jason rolled his eyes, annoyed at her lack of remorse. Clarisse clenched her fists and snapped.

"I'm trying to be nice, you know. You're not very helpful." She sat down on a rock a few feet to his left and let her spear drop to the ground. She rested her chin in her hands and stared out into the distance, apparently lost in thought. "So, you and that Aphrodite girl going out yet?" Jason resisted the urge to scream. He was always asked that question, and he figured Piper was too. He wondered what her response was.

"No," he said firmly, which usually shut people up. With Clarisse, though, she was a little more determined.

"I'm not usually one to pry, but I think you should." Jason closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

"That's none of your business, but thanks anyway." He shifted away from Clarisse and stared north, ignoring the daughter of Ares for several minutes, until she started arguing again.

"You got somebody back at Camp Jupiter? Is that why you're always avoiding her?" Jason whirled around on her and shot to his feet like a bullet, sick and tired of her completely needless opinions regarding his love life, or lack thereof.

"Yeah, okay, maybe I do have somebody in my past, but that is my _past_, alright? I've changed, I'm different now, and I will never be the same, so just leave me alone!" Jason realized he was breathing heavy and fought to bring his heated emotions back under control.

He glanced back up at Clarisse, expecting her spear at his throat. But instead, she was smiling. Not affronted, not angry, not even surprised. She was smiling. "I knew that was in there somewhere."

"What?" he demanded.

"That's the problem with you heroic-types. You keep all your emotions bottled up, and then, when everyone's counting on you, you freeze up. I've been trying to get an explosion like that out of Jackson ever since the Titan War. Seriously, he acts so cool about it, and it's not healthy." Jason looked up at her and cracked a smile.

"I thought you hated Percy." He said, and Clarisse shot him a dirty look.

"And if you tell him anything different you will never speak again." Jason just broke down and laughed at that point, not really caring whether Clarisse had been serious or not. He had way too much stress bottled up inside, and like Clarisse said, he was ready to lose a bit of it.

"Jackson is eternally stubborn. He refuses to listen to anybody but himself when it comes to healthy versus non-healthy, and I'm a little afraid part of the reason he's not nearly as happy anymore is because of it." Now Jason's curiosity was quirked, and he wasn't going to stop bothering her until she told him everything about his future partner. Luckily, he didn't have to prob. "He saw a lot of people die in that war, a lot of close friends, including a girl who was like a sister to me. Her name was Silena."

"Silena Beauregard? The Aphrodite traitor?" Jason was shocked. Clarisse ignored his tone and just nodded.

"She put on my armor and led the Ares cabin to war." Jason was impressed. He thought Piper was the only one with guts. "She went after a Drakon and was killed by a blast of acid in the face, but she wasn't the only causality. When Percy was twelve, he watched his mother burst apart." That was something Jason hadn't known.

"Percy's an orphan?" he demanded, shocked that no one had told him before.

Clarisse laughed and threw her head back. "Nah, but he thought he was for a bit. Turns out Hades was holding her captive. Anyway, he's fought more monsters than he cares to admit, and I'm fairly sure he got turned into a guinea pig one time." Jason snorted. "If he doesn't lose some steam soon, he's gonna go insane."

Jason was surprised at how thorough Clarisse had been on her observations. He also wondered if this Percy Jackson was as flawless as he had initially thought. As much as everyone raved about him, he figured he had to be extraordinary, but Clarisse made him a little more human. It was a relief to know he wasn't the worst disaster in the world.

"I killed Krios by accident." He said suddenly, surprising even himself. Clarisse jumped and turned to face him. He shifted his weight and stared at the ground. "It really wasn't any big accomplishment. He came looking for me, singled me out, and like an idiot, I told everyone to go on ahead without me. I was going to die; he had me dead to rites, but...I tripped over a bone and impaled him with my spear. I hadn't planned it, so he hadn't anticipated it, and I beat him. But it was a complete fluke." Jason lowered his head in shame. "I got the praetorship because I was lucky."

Clarisse had the tact not to laugh. "That sucks." She admitted. "But you are a good fighter. I've seen you in the arena. You're not too shabby with either a sword or a spear. And we needed you to fight Gaea. Maybe it wasn't an accident as much as a happy coincidence." Jason's head shot up.

"Have you ever said the words 'happy coincidence' before in your life?" he asked, shocked.

"No," Clarisse admitted, and they shared a laugh.

"I could tell." Jason stared at the rocks on the ground and then back up. "I wonder how lost we are." He pondered aloud.

Clarisse just shrugged. "Who knows, but we've got to keep moving. Clovis is the only minor half-blood in this group." Jason groaned. Clovis, son of Hypnos, was always sleeping. He'd be a big problem when getting to Camp Jupiter.

"Monsters don't come this far close to camp, but you're right. We should get moving again in a little bit." Clarisse studied Jason's face for a moment and sighed.

"How about I take first watch? I'll wake you up when I need to sleep." Jason nodded gratefully and laid back on his rock, instantly falling asleep.

Nico di Angelo did not, contrary to the popular belief, wallow in his own self-pity. He had a tendency to shun the living away from him, yes, but he was not depressed. He was not "Goth." He was just different.

But now, he was wallowing.

He sagged against the bars of his earthen cage and sighed hopelessly. He bowed his head in defeat, giving up the fight against Mother Earth. There was nothing more he could do in order to escape, that was the unfortunate truth. For an indeterminate number of days, he had fought futilely with the bars of his prison with no sleep and barely any food. Now, his muscles ached, his stomach growled, his eyelids were heavy and he was fed up with life. Part of him wanted to close his eyes, even though Gaea had told him that she would kill him the minute he fell asleep. He actually considered deliberately giving in entirely and letting her kill him, but then the faces of Hazel Levesque, Frank Zhang, and most importantly, Percy Jackson flashed across his mind and he staggered to his feet.

He had to reach now to pull the surrounding weeds out of the ground. When he first woke up in the cell, they were plentiful, even growing a little in his cage, but he had exhausted his resources so much that he now had to carefully ration the stupid whitish brown plants, which were not very good nourishment.

He had to struggle to remember what happened when he was kidnapped. All he could really recall was feeling downtrodden and guilty, wandering the lonely streets of New York City while wrestling with an internal decision he couldn't quite remember. When he looked up, he saw green trees and picnic benches all around him, and the ground dropped out from under his feet.

He felt like he was falling for eternity, but he couldn't scream. He just continued to descend endlessly, and he was afraid that he would never stop. He would never get to die and be judged, hopefully to Elysium Fields. But then he woke up in this narrow, cramped, tall enclosure like some zoo animal with bars made of clay and grass.

He could not see the sky, but he was facing east, so he saw the rising and setting of the sun. But he was fairly sure that wasn't an appropriate estimate for the amount of time he'd been trapped. After dealing with the reality of gods and monsters for almost three years, Nico was well aware that time sometimes worked differently and on different planes of existence. He, in fact, had been held prisoner in a much different environment when he was ten. He thought it had only been about six months, but it had been seventy years in reality. The twenty-first century was not kind to a kid born in war-plagued forties America.

He had been raised most of his life with his older sister, Bianca, but three years ago a quest claimed her unsettlingly young life. After discovering the failure of Percy Jackson, the missing son of Poseidon, to protect, Nico had lost it and ran away like an immature coward. He didn't come to his senses until a year later, when he ran across Percy and his three accompanying friends in Geryon's ranch. All five of them had been traversing the labyrinth, although Percy's quest had done it to protect Camp Half-Blood and Nico was set and determined to bring his dead sister back to life.

In reality, he never blamed Percy for Bianca's death. He resented his sister for joining the Hunters of Artemis and leaving her younger brother to the mercy of strange people and an even stranger camp. He just wanted her safe though, and he blamed himself for chasing her away. For being too young and childish for her to tolerate him. He thought that, maybe, if he'd grown up just a little more, Bianca might have stayed. And when she died, he saw it as a failure on his part to keep her safe and sound. This was, in part, his motivation for seeking her out after the Doors of Death fiasco.

The Doors of Death were, essentially, Death's highway. He used them as his main entrance to the land of the dead and the living so he could escort escaped souls back where they belonged, but then Death, also known as Thanatos in Greek mythology, was kidnapped. Nico's father, Hades, god of the dead, was the boss of death and of the Underworld, but he just wasn't big enough to police death entirely. So Thanatos did that part of his job for him, until said minor god was captured.

Death no longer functioned as it should have. Monsters were rematerializing without their essence returning to Tartarus, like it should, and thousand year old corpses were suddenly living and breathing again. Nico thought that if people as dead and gone as Medea could return from the dead, maybe his recently killed sister could too.

But he had been too late. He ran to Elysium Fields, past the guards attempting to stop him, but discovered that Bianca had moved on. Not because of the Doors of Death, though. She had gone on to another life, which, if she fulfilled her time there and died a hero, would then give her a third and final chance at life. If she succeeded there too, she'd earn the Isles of the Blest, kind of like the VIP party for the dead. He was happy that she had gone to better her Afterlife, but at the same time, Nico hated her for leaving before he could bring her back.

He stretched his arm as far as it would go through the small opening in between two bars, extending his fingers and wrapping them around a single weed. It was skinny, but tall, so he pulled it out of the ground and through the bars, nibbling on the end carefully. As hungry he was, he couldn't afford to waste the dwindling supply of food.

Weeds were supposed to grow like wildfire, not stopped unless you used something to make them stop, but these weren't growing back. Every day, Nico had to reach farther and farther out of his cell for food, but eventually he'd run out. He couldn't live forever, not like this.

He'd lost an unhealthy amount of weight. He hadn't exactly had a lot of meat on his bones before, but now his ribs showed through his black shirt. He must have looked like a cadaver, as skinny as he was. He promised himself that if he ever escaped, he'd devote the next three weeks to eating nothing but McDonald's until he was big enough to life.

But first thing was first, he had to get out. He had tried everything from prying around the stiff, immovable bars to beating on them repeating with a heavy stick. All the latter had succeeded in doing was losing him his stick and blending it in with the already impenetrable bars.

As a son of Hades, Nico also had the ability to call upon the deceased to serve him, but he was unable to do so now. No matter how hard he concentrated, the dead simply refused to help him. It was like he'd had his connection with the Afterlife severed completely, almost like a pair of scissors snipped the flow. It was infuriating.

He grabbed the bars above his head and used his feet to kick the bars as hard as he could. He hadn't really expected it to work, and it didn't. He let himself drop back down and collapsed. That little bit of strength had all he could conjure.

A yawn escaped despite his best efforts to stop it. His eyes grew unbelievably heavy, and he stumbled, falling down on his butt and mumbling desperately. But sleep was winning. He couldn't fight the inevitable, and eventually, he would lose the war with exhaustion. His entire body felt like it had been filled with lead. It had been so long since he had slept, and now he...

As Nico's head lulled to the side, he yanked it back up. He refused to let Gaea win. He still had friends he needed to protect, to warn. If he died, what were they going to do? Hazel needed him.

He struggled to his feet, but before he could straighten his knees entirely, they gave out and he collapsed again. "No!" he shouted to no one in particular. After all, there was no one to hear his desperate cries for help.

There was no one left to save him.

The tears fell shamelessly, rolling down his cheeks as he fought against the one part of humanity that both a saving grace and a curse. He did not want to sleep. He could not sleep for fear that he would never wake up again. But he was so tired.

Finally, unable to fight anymore, Nico di Angelo let sleep wash over him like a cool drink of water. His eyes closed and his breathing leveled out. He dreamt easily.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: Frozen**

In an artic wasteland, there really isn't anything to do.

Felicia pulled her jacket tighter around her cold, trembling body, fighting for warmth, but the frigid wind bite through the thin layers of fabric. She wore only an green t-shirt beneath her sweater and winter coat, and the inadequate clothing was killing her.

Felicia wasn't sure if the blizzard had been constant for days or if it had just been one long string of them, but she really could care less. She was too concerned with finding shelter to wait out the bitter cold in until the storm blew past. And it would move on, Felicia knew. Her father was a meteorologist. Storms always moved on.

She stumbled through the snow, her feet sinking into the fluffy white ice, slowing her down. She couldn't find anything to make snowshoes with, so she was forced to struggle against the knee-high snowfall on her search for sanctuary.

Unfortunately for the runaway, the blizzard was too thick to see anything through. It was just a blanket of white without any way to see past it. She had to squint her eyes in order to make out even her hand held directly in front of her face.

She tucked her bare hands in her armpits and prayed the thin, long fingers wouldn't turn black from frostbite. She shivered uncontrollably, and her stomach rumbled. She needed to stop for the night.

As she trudged through the snowstorm, she spotted a light about a mile in front of her. Hope flickered to light in her chest and she ran as fast as she could through the thick snow to what could very easily be her savior. Until she saw the source of the light.

From a distance, she could tell it was a fire, but she assumed someone had found shelter and made camp. She had been wrong. As she approached what could have saved her, it grew as a humanoid shape, covered in roaring flames. She screamed in cold terror, and the shape turned to her. Then it started running after her.

She pumped her fists back and forth as she ran for all she was worth away from the figure rapidly gaining on her. It was moving a lot faster and easier than she was, and she was terrified that if it caught her, it would kill her. Normal people didn't burst into flames like that. That thing wasn't human.

She had seen monsters before. Her father had taught her about Greek mythology, which she had always found strange. His occupation was based on hard, cold fact, not the illusions of some extinct civilization of mushroom-high Greeks. But he had insisted she learn every detail about it, and his uncharacteristic firmness had convinced her. And that thing following her was like those things in the Jason myth, Bronze Bulls. Supposedly automations built by the god Hephaestus, they could not be defeated without an immunity to intense fire. And after the Cyclops attack three weeks ago on her and her father at his news station, she wasn't taking any chances.

"Wait!" the figure called. She stopped. Bronze Bulls were animals. They couldn't speak English. But then again, that Cyclops had tricked her into thinking it was her father. She didn't know what other tricks those things had up their sleeves.

She kept running, but fell on her face in the cold snow. The figure caught up with her, and she instantly felt a welcome rush of warmth wash over her. The figure lifted her up, because she could no longer fight it, and carried her away, kind of like a hero would in the myths. As her eyes began to drift closed, she mumbled, "Who are you?"

"Incredibly awesome and apparently undead Leo Valdez. Now shut up,"

Hazel watched Percy from a distance only. It was too dangerous to get close to him now, when his mind was so fragile.

He never spoke to anyone, except to order them about or make a brief and no-questions-asked announcement. Most of the time though, he closed in, shut himself off, shunned concerned campers away. He had moved into the Praetor's quarters, and all of Jason's stuff had been moved out into Reyna's. Hazel wasn't surprised the more experienced praetor had requested the move. Jason's death had hit her the hardest.

But Percy's losses made Camp Jupiter's seem trivial and pathetic. He didn't know how many of his friends were onboard the ship that blew up, but one of them had been his girlfriend. That he had been positive of. And what had started out excitement when he thought he would see her again had turned to cold, bitter anger and hate.

Hazel didn't recognize her friend anymore. He spent unhealthy amounts of time cleaning up his father's shrine on Temple Hill, with was really no more than a broom closet. Romans were so afraid of Neptune that they only paid homage to him when they had absolutely no choice but to travel oversea, and they rarely did that. Rome had based its military on infantry and siege warfare; all other forms were frowned upon as cowardly. Archery was scoffed at, much to Frank's distaste, and Hazel's own preference, Calvary, was reserved for officer's only. That's why every classical weapon of Rome was either really short sword or a spear. The Romans loved spears.

Percy never even addressed her and Frank anymore. One time, they'd bumped into him in New Rome, and he just pushed them like they didn't exist. Hazel was afraid for Percy, not for his life, but for his sanity.

And to make things worse, the Prophecy of Seven still had to be completed, but according to Percy, at least one if not more of the Seven was killed on that ship. So far, the only members they knew about were Hazel, Frank, and Percy, but Hazel was afraid that Percy was no longer an effective fighter.

Hazel was constantly worrying about her kidnapped brother, Nico di Angelo. Ever since Gaea had told her about him, she'd been determined to find him. She'd even tried the communication Percy had taught her called Iris messaging, but the rainbow refused the show her Nico. She was scared that he was dead.

"Hazel?" a voice interrupted her thoughts. "Hazel? Earth to Hazel? Anybody there?" Her head shot up and she smiled (more like grimaced) at Frank, her recent boyfriend.

"Yeah," she said, laughing. "I'm here." He grinned at her, showing off his white teeth and making her heart flutter happily. She wasn't sure if she loved Frank, but she certainly had strong feelings for him.

"I was a little worried that you'd..." Frank cut off mid-sentence and looked behind Hazel. She turned and saw Percy standing over her, looking forlorn. "What do you want?" Frank demanded. Where Hazel's reaction to Percy's isolation was sympathy, Frank's had been anger.

For a moment, Hazel thought Percy would just walk away again. He stared intently at the ground, and when he finally looked up, his eyes were full of so much pain Hazel could literally feel it resonating off him in waves. "To apologize," he said finally, his voice cracking from lack of use.

Frank looked taken aback by his admittance, and Hazel was a little surprised too. "Percy, you don't have to..."

"Yes, I do." He said firmly, some of the old strength of his voice returning. "I've been treating you two horribly, and I'm really sorry. It's just..." he trailed off, but Hazel didn't need him to finish. In such little time, Percy had lost his memory, fought monsters, found Camp Jupiter, and seen someone die, gone on a quest, and killed a giant. That would have been more than most people could take, but his life had gotten even worse. It all simply spiraled out of control the minute that ship exploded.

Hazel knew what it felt like to feel out of control. That same feeling had driven her to do some pretty stupid things, and now Percy was feeling ten times worse. She had always pitied herself for her problems, but when she really thought about it, the part of Percy's life she'd known him for had been much worse than any part of hers. She had no idea about the rest of it.

Percy's green eyes watered slightly, but he blinked the tears away before they could fall. Hazel saw his lower lips quiver a little, but he stilled it immediately. Hazel wondered how long it had been since he cried, or if he had even grieved yet. She hoped so, because if not, she had no idea how to comfort him.

"Wow, Percy," Frank began sarcastically. "That so makes up for it. Thanks, man." Hazel shot her boyfriend a dirty look, but he ignored her. She shook her head. Why were boys so complicated?

"Both of you stop it," she said desperately. She turned to Frank, who recoiled a little under her gaze. "Frank, you know what Percy's been through. He needed some space. And Percy," she turned on the son of Neptune, who just stared at her with sorrowful eyes. She couldn't bring herself to lecture him. "Thank you,"

Percy winced like something she said hurt him. She felt like she was handling a very expensive piece of glass art. One mistake and it could shatter into a million pieces.

She watched Percy's Adam's apple rise and fall when he swallowed, clearly struggling to say the next few words. He addressed Frank specifically this time. "Hey, man, look, I'm sorry about the way I've been acting. It's not right, and I...I just don't know what to do anymore." Percy turned his eyes away and watched a teenage couple laughing at a booth a few down from theirs.

Percy turned to leave, and Hazel looked at Frank desperately. They exchanged a nonverbal argument, but eventually Frank broke down and called after him. "Hey, you know you can eat with us. We won't mind." Percy half-turned, and Hazel expected him to break out in one of his expansive grins, but instead a very obviously fake grimace flashed across his face and he shook his head.

"Maybe next time, Frank. But thanks anyway." And then he walked off. Hazel couldn't believe what she had just seen. Not only did Percy come over in a completely uncharacteristic fashion, but he then declined an invitation to sit down with his friends. Hazel was done playing the neutral party in all of it and letting Percy work out his problems on his own. He very clearly couldn't.

"Come on," she said, placing three denarii on the table before setting off after Percy. Frank let out an indignant yelp from behind her and tried to grab her shirt, but she shook him off. She heard him mutter something like "Girls," before getting up and following her.

Percy jogged out of New Rome and past the various shops that he usually spent a lot of time ogling at. He cleared the Pomerian Line and silently took his pen-sword Riptide from the offered plate from Julia, the little girl assistant of the statue god Terminus. The god of boundaries called after the praetor, but Percy merely waved his hand over his shoulder and set off at a dead run to the Little Tiber.

Hazel's heart stopped dead. Was that why he had come to apologize to her and Frank? Because he was leaving? She sprinted after him, and Frank no longer looked apprehensive about bothering Percy. He was ahead of her in three seconds, and then he transformed into a bird and flew ahead of Percy, stopping him just before he reached the river.

Hazel took several more minutes to reach them, but when she did, she saw Frank fighting with Percy over an Imperial Gold knife clutched in his hand. "Percy!" she screamed. "You can't kill Frank!" She ran up behind him and pulled him away from her boyfriend, who stumbled back into the water. A giant wave rose up and fell onto of Frank, Percy's knife lost in the wave.

Percy kicked her off and outstretched his hand to catch the knife, but she shoved him to the ground before he could. "Help!" she screamed desperately. Percy's eyes were filled with such pain she wasn't even sure he recognized her anymore.

Hazel scampered across the Earth and wrapped her fingers around the knife, just in time before a wave crashed on top of her and she called out. Her lungs filled with water, and while she coughed it back up, Percy lunged through the air and yanked the knife from her grasp. For a moment, Hazel wondered if it was some sort of relapse in his memory, and he was reliving a part of his life that had previously been lost to him. She immediately discounted the idea. The crazed look in his eyes had never been there before.

Finally, Bobby showed up, holding Percy back while the son of Neptune screamed incoherently, like Bobby was hurting him. He hung onto the knife for dear life, even as Hazel pried it from his grasp, and when she finally got it away from him, he cursed at her in a mixture of English, Greek, and Latin. Tears were rolling down his cheeks and he wouldn't stop screaming, screaming so loud Hazel's eardrums burst and his voice literally wouldn't take it anymore.

"Let me go!" he screamed, thrashing around wildly. Bobby fought to hold on. "Let me go! I have to do this! I have to!" Hazel didn't know what he was talking about, but whatever required him to leave Camp Jupiter was not healthy.

Percy was openly sobbing now. An entire crowd had gathered to watch the breakdown, people pointing and snickering like it was somehow funny. That is, until Percy started screaming again. "I can't keep doing this! I have nothing left! Just let me go!" That's when it occurred to Hazel what Percy had been trying to do.

She turned and looked at Frank, who was dragging himself up onto land, dripping wet. He bowed his head and didn't meet Percy's eyes. It finally clicked in Hazel's mind. Percy hadn't just been trying to leave. He had been trying to get far enough away from everyone that nobody could stop him when he tried to kill himself. Percy wanted to commit suicide.

Hazel started crying then too. Crying because Percy had reached the point where there really was no coming back. Percy had been staring at the bottom of the cliff for a while now, and he had finally taken the plunge.

Hazel had been dead. She had felt death, but in the end, Hazel was still Hazel. She still knew who she was. Percy's fate was far worse than hers had ever been. He was still technically alive, but inside was rotten and black. Inside, Percy had died along with that ship. Inside, Percy was frozen solid.

They wrestled with their insane friend for what could easily have been hours, Percy breaking free a half-dozen times and almost making it back to the knife. But each time, they stopped him. Then, finally, when Frank had tackled him to the ground, Percy simply gave up. He didn't get tired; he just stopped fighting, like it wasn't even worth it for him anymore. He rested his cheek against the ground and let his eyes drift out over the crowd, not even seeing them. The last thing Hazel heard him say was, "Let me be with her." Then he spoke no more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Partners**

Piper's legs gave way after running for almost an hour. Annabeth was ahead of her and ran back when she heard her scream. The daughter of Athena tried to hold her up, but she only went down with her.

"Come on, Piper," she urged. "We have to get to Camp Jupiter." But Piper didn't want to get to Camp Jupiter. She felt terrible, like her insides had turned to mush. Leo was dead. Jason had abandoned them as soon as he saw the fire. All of her friends were miles away from her, also possibly dead. It didn't seem worth it to keep running anymore.

"Piper, come on." Annabeth's voice made her stand, even though her legs were shaking so much from the energy drain. She limped along with Annabeth as they navigated the variously sized hills, running for Camp Jupiter, which they could see framed in the distance. It was still several days away, and they had already been moving non-stop for three. They hadn't stopped to even rest yet, and Piper's body wouldn't take it anymore.

"I can't, Annabeth." She coughed. "I can't." Annabeth stared at her for a long moment. Piper knew why she was so desperate to make it to Camp Jupiter so soon. She wanted to see her boyfriend again, and Piper couldn't stop her from doing that. "Go on without me."

Annabeth's pursed her lips. Piper could see the gears turning in her eyes, the argument between logic and compassion raging inside her mind. Part of her knew it was wiser to leave Piper and forge on ahead without her, but the rest didn't want to leave a new half-blood to fend for herself in a strange terrain.

Finally, Annabeth sighed and lowered Piper to the ground. "No, Piper. We're partners now. We stick together."

Annabeth started collecting wood for a fire, venturing just to the bottom of their hill to gather sticks to burn. When the spark ignited the pile of firewood, Piper winced, remembering both the late-friend Leo and the explosion that claimed his life. A single tear fell down her cheek as she watched Annabeth prod the flames wordlessly, and Piper tried not to fall asleep. She was afraid of what she would dream if she did.

The daughter of Athena saw Piper staring at her and smiled weakly. "You can go to sleep, you know. I don't care." Piper said nothing, but she didn't lie down. Annabeth shrugged and kept the fire going.

Piper, at first, welcomed the silence as a way to reconcile with her disjointed thoughts. But as time wore on, she started feeling uneasy about the sustained lack of dialogue between the two of them, and she had to say something. "I bet you're really excited about seeing Percy again." she said suddenly, then immediately regretted it. Annabeth tensed visibly, and then nodded tersely, like she didn't want to continue the conversation. Of course, that only interested Piper more.

"Is something wrong?" she asked. As determined as Annabeth had been to find her boyfriend, she couldn't think of a single reason why the daughter of Athena wouldn't be thrilled about seeing him again. She was afraid it had something to do with Gaea.

"No," Annabeth muttered under her breath. "Nothing's wrong." But Piper wasn't convinced. Noticing the clenched muscles and aversion to eye contact, classic signs of deceit, she fell to a level she rarely fell to. She deliberately used her charmspeaking powers.

"Tell me what's wrong," she commanded, and Annabeth's back straightened, then loosened.

"I think Percy might be dead." The daughter of Athena said through gritted teeth. The enchantment expired; Annabeth whirled on Piper, eyes flashing dangerously. Piper's shied away from her, afraid that she might have made a fatal mistake. Annabeth looked murderous for a second, but then her expression relaxed. "I had a dream that he fell off a glacier. I haven't heard or seen him since, and I'm a little afraid...I'm a little afraid Camp Jupiter's going to tell me he's gone."

Piper instantly felt sympathetic toward Annabeth. She was a strong woman, clearly a child from a broken home, but even she was susceptible to feeling helpless and fearful. Piper wasn't the only one who had to struggle with indecision. It was nice to know she wasn't alone.

Annabeth turned her head away, and somehow Piper knew comforting her wouldn't work. She certainly didn't want to risk Annabeth's anger flaring up like that again, so she resolved to change the subject. "Do you think Nyssa is alright?" Annabeth paused and looked back the way they had come sorrowfully. Piper could see the doubt in Annabeth's eyes.

Piper had watched a gust of wind blow past just as Nyssa, Leo's half-sister, had leapt out of the _Argo II _after her. Nyssa called out as she was swept away, back east and out of sight. Later on, when Piper had met up with Annabeth, who had landed several hills away from her, the daughter of Athena made her explain what happened to Nyssa. She hadn't been happy about it, but she told her the truth.

"I honestly don't know anymore, Piper. Right now, all I'm thinking about is surviving the night. But...Nyssa's pretty strong. I'm sure she's fine." Neither of them could say that absolutely. The only "for sure" either had was the fact that Leo Valdez was dead. It was not exactly something that brightened Piper's spirits.

Another long session of silence followed, and eventually Piper decided it was better to start moving again. "Shall we?" she asked carefully. Annabeth sighed like she was relieved she'd asked and extinguished. She offered her hand to Piper, but Piper waved it aside. After struggling to her shaky feet, Piper looked east to the definite shape of Camp Jupiter. Her resolve hardened. She would make it to the Roman sanctuary. She swore she would.

Together, Annabeth and her set off at a slower run, clearing some serious ground within very little time. Piper watched her new partner with careful eyes, wondering if Annabeth was still a friend, or if her desperation she avenge her boyfriend would turn her into Piper's enemy.

* * *

Rachel's philosophy was simple. Don't go looking for trouble, and it won't find you.

So, naturally, Rachel did her best to look for trouble.

She ran her fingers through her disaster of red hair atop her head and groaned when she realized that after all of this was said and done, she would have to go _back _to Clarion's Ladies Academy. Part of her wanted to die in the middle of the wilderness right now. The rest of her wanted to find Percy Jackson

She used to have a tiny crush on the son of Poseidon, and it had never really died, although she had technically devoted her life to Apollo and the Oracle of Delphi. Who wouldn't fall for those deep, sensitive green eyes and windblown mess of black hair? Even Annabeth, Ms. I'm-the-Most-Down-to-Earth-Person-You-Will-Ever-Meet had fallen head over heels for him, and seeing the joy etched across Percy's every time Annabeth kissed him gave Rachel enough self-restraint not to punch the girl's lights out. Although Rachel had a nagging suspicion that Annabeth would beat her to the punch, literally.

Rachel examined her domain with careful eyes. Okay, so it a group of five confused demigods and a whole lot of nothing, but still. Rachel liked feeling powerful, and whenever she was around half-bloods, she tended to feel less than. Not today, though. Today all eyes were trained on her.

She did a mental headcount of how many representatives from Camp Half-Blood had set out on the _Argo II _with Annabeth and the group of three prophecy kids. There was the five in front of her, all of the counselors from all of the cabins, save Katie Gardner, who was currently having staring match with another daughter of Demeter in front of Rachel. Most of the ship had evacuated as soon as Leo's voice came on the loudspeaker, and most wasted no time jumping overboard. Theirs had been the second group to leap off, landing them all in relatively the same place.

So, there were only about twenty half-bloods in total that had been forced to abandon the _Argo II_. The rest were all safe and sound back and Camp Half-Blood, kicking back and enjoying their problem-free lives. Well, except the Aphrodite kids. They always had to worry about pimples.

"Alright," Rachel announced. Katie and her half-sister turned to her expectantly, and Rachel cleared her throat, mostly as a delay tactic. "So..." she shifted her weight back and forth. "So I suppose we should get moving?" she said hesitantly. No longer commanding the crowd's attention, the five demigods looked away from her and started bickering amongst themselves. "Hey!" she said, shocked. "Hello? Smoking ashes falling to Earth over there, do you not see it? We have to get moving before the others freak out and come looking for us."

Rachel was a notoriously laid-back and problem-free type person, but extenuating circumstances call for extenuating measures. They had to haul their lazy butts out of the ground where they were stubbornly rooted and start heading toward Camp Jupiter. Luckily for them, the sun was rising, meaning they could follow that course all the way to Camp Jupiter.

"Looking for us?" scoffed the daughter of strife in their company. Rebecca, daughter of Eris, was notorious for sulking and making unhelpful comments. It grated on everyone's nerves. "Goes to show just how little a mortal knows. Why would they come looking for us? They probably think we're dead, if they are even alive."

Rachel closed her eyes and counted to ten, resisting the urge to strangle the blonde haired she-demon. "I may be a _mortal_," she started dangerously."-but I am also the Oracle of Delphi, which is little more than you can say." Rachel would have tacked Rebecca's last name onto the end is she had known it. As it stood, she was depended on her status and commanding tone to intimidate the girl.

It didn't work.

Rebecca rolled her eyes and propped her knee up on a rock, favoring Rachel with an intense distasteful glare. "You think you're _so_ special just because you've got Apollo at your beck and call, Dare. But in reality, you're just another mortal in the wrong place at the wrong time."

The others were looking between Rachel and Rebecca while they argued, and right now, Rachel had their attention. "Everything that leaves your mouth, _Becky_, is downtrodden and angry. The only things you care to voice bring everyone down." Rebecca growled at the common nickname, made even worse by the deliberate emphasis Rachel placed on the word. She could see Rebecca's muscles bunching, preparing to strike. She waited for an attack.

Eyes turned back to Rebecca, who covered her anger with a bemused smile. "Oh, I get it. You hate me 'cuz I'm a realist." Rachel distinctly heard a "Burn" from someone in the remaining four half-bloods, and the others looked impressed. She gulped. This wasn't going her way at all.

"What?" Rachel cried. "No!"

"Yes," she started nodding, like it was all coming clear. "It makes perfect sense. You have your head in the clouds, and you're trying to make everyone follow you blindly. Well, I, for one, am not a sheep. I take my own path, and it is not following you."

With that, Rebecca turned on her heel and set off in the opposite direction, away from the rising run. "Where are you going?" Rachel demanded, horrified. "Camp Jupiter's that way."

Predictably, Rebecca laughed. "Don't you get it? I'm not going to Camp Jupiter. My house isn't far from here. I say to heck with Gaea and her children. I'm going home."

It was Rachel's worst nightmare come to life. The others started nodding, like she was making perfect sense, and set off after her down the hill. "Wait!" Rachel called desperately. "Stop! Camp Jupiter isn't that..." but Rachel's voice carried emptily over the many hills, echoing into nonexistence. "-far..."

They were gone. Disappeared among the grasses and the greens of Berkley Hills and history. And Rachel was standing perfectly still, dumbfounded by the unexpected turn of events. In a matter of minutes, that stupid Rebecca girl had led the other half-bloods to their deaths. Alone out there, heading back to the non-safety of their homes, monsters would overwhelm them.

Rachel sat down on a rock and buried her head in her hands. Alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Five: Named

A black-haired girl shuffled along in the line of chained demigods, up the side of the mountain to a petite office woman sitting at a desk. She was approximately twenty half-bloods away from the woman, which was fine by her. Just looking at the secretary made her insides boil.

The boy in front of her had an empty quiver slung on his back and a nasty gash across it, bleeding profusely. His orange t-shirt was stained with a lot of red. She placed her handcuffed hands on his shoulder and he turned to look at her with pained eyes. Then a whip landed on his back and he staggered forward.

Behind her was another boy with an eye patch across his left eye. She wondered if it was just for show, to appear masculine, but something made her doubt it. There was a permanent sneer etched into his face, and his one eye flashed with contempt and anger when she tried to ask him who he was.

Another whip cracked, and the line started moving again.

She didn't understand what was going on. Everything was moving at a snail's pace. Of the group of twenty half-bloods, fifteen tried to escape and failed. Three were shot in head and killed, but then immediately shot back up and started screaming as monsters hauled them to the back of the line. She decided she didn't want to end up like them, so she said nothing as she moved through the line.

Fifty or so feet to her left and right, two other lines snaked along the mountain, each to their own desk clerk, who she saw was checking something off her list. What really scared her wasn't the list, or the monsters carrying whips, it was the fact that each of the three women looked absolutely identical, except for one who had sunglasses over her eyes. As she got closer, she realized that the bandanas each of them tucked their hair under was writhing like the hair was alive, and their hands and face kept flickering between that of a normal human woman and horrible, claw-like things covered in blood.

She was down to twelve half-bloods away now. She could more easily so the clipboard the woman was checking something off of. Each time, she looked up at the demigod standing in front of her and raised a snack tray, offering them something, which only one took. The minute she did, she dropped to the floor dead. The woman peered over the edge of the table at her, smiling as the girl came around. She said something to the young woman, and she screamed, joining the number of demigods bringing up the rear.

The boy two in front of her was up now. She made note of his messy, dirty blonde hair and electric eyes which seemed to shot bolts at anyone they settled on. It reminded her a little of someone she knew, but she couldn't quite recall a name.

"Name," the woman asked politely, but the boy said nothing, just stared at her uncomprehendingly. "Name," she repeated sweetly, but the boy just shook his head.

When a monster attempted to whip him, he whirled around and gripped the leather around his wrist, yanking the monster off balance. Another one lunged at him, and he elbowed it across the face, hard enough to break its jaw. He dodged an arrow, and then narrowly missed a bullet as he flew past him.

He leapt into the air and had the woman by the throat, yelling at her in a language that sent the other half-bloods stumbling back. The black-haired girl wasn't sure, but she thought she could understand what he was saying. "Where am I? Do you not know who I am? I am the slayer of the Nemean Lion, collector of the Apples of Hesperides, divine and mortal son of Zeus, lord of the skies, and you presume to keep me like a pet!"

Then the boy was launched backwards, impacting the ground with a loud, and very painful, _thud_. The woman straightened her business suit and smiled pleasantly at him, almost like nothing had happened. "Heracles, otherwise known of Hercules, welcome to The Army. You will be Prisoner Number Three-Hundred-and-Thirty-Six. Please proceed to our gruff handlers at Station Eight and you will be provided with the appropriate uniform for your stay with us.

Heracles wrestled vainly with his captors and the bear-looking twins led him away from the crowd, toward what she assumed was Station Eight.

Next was the boy with the empty quiver. He was watching the other boy being carried away too intently to even notice that it was his turn, but another whip across his back brought him to reality. He stumbled forward into the woman's desk and didn't even wait for her to ask him his name. "Michael," he said quickly and fearfully, before the monster could strike with the whip. "Michael Yew, son of Apollo, please, don't hurt me."

The woman smiled at him. "How did you die?"

He looked affronted. "Die? I didn't die. What are you talking about?" she sighed dejectedly and checked his name off the list.

"Michael Yew, welcome to the Army. You will be Prisoner Number Three-Hundred-and-Thirty-Eight. Please proceed to our bad-tempered handlers at Station Ten and you will be provided with the appropriate uniform for your stay with us."

Next was her turn. She leveled her eyes and stared daggers at the little horrible woman. "What are you?" she demanded. The woman looked surprised, and then she did an once-over on the girl's clothing. A smile spread across her face.

"Oh, goodie! We have a Huntress! This will be wonderful!" she recollected herself and straightened in her seat after shooting one of the other secretaries an ecstatic look. "Name, please, dear,"

She racked her brain, but couldn't seem to remember a name. Suddenly, one popped into her head. "Zoe Nightshade," she said quickly. The woman looked at her suspiciously, and then checked every one of thirteen pages for that name. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, my dear, but Zoe Nightshade is not on my list. It isn't your name." Then she studied her. "Do you even _know_ your name?"

The girl thought desperately, but nothing came to mind. She was so confused after everything she'd gone through. The only thing she could remember was a lot of bright light and electricity before everything faded away. And the face of a young boy who looked a lot like her. That face brought tears to her eyes.

She fought to remember a name, and blissfully, one appeared to her. But then a voice echoed through her mind, _Thy name is thy identity. To forget thy name is to forget thyself, and to surrender thy name is to surrender thyself_. So she kept her lips sealed, not providing the horrible woman with her name, although it was now echoing through her mind like a drum in the Grand Canyon.

The woman waited patiently for answer, and when she didn't give on, the woman sighed. "Enforcer Tammi, will you please see to it that this wonderful Huntress learns her place in The Army?" Immediately, cold fear gripped her as Tammi approached. For a second, she was pretty and blonde, but then the facade dropped and she was staring at a pale, fire-haired monster.

She stepped away from her fearfully, but then calloused hands pushed her forward, onto her face, and she screamed when cold, sharp fingernails bit into her skin. A desperate cry was driven from her lips, and then she felt the monster release her. She rolled over on her back and saw Tammi spread out on the ground as a golden spear tip descended over her chest. She instantly burst apart in gold dust, and standing over her remains was a skeletal warrior with a spear and Roman shield.

The legionnaire whirled around and stared at her as she struggled to her feet. It occurred to her that it was waiting for her command, but she couldn't speak. She was horrified. When she said nothing, the skeleton merely broke apart into separate pieces of bone and weapons, dissolving into the earth.

To say the least she was shocked. She turned back to the secretary, who was smiling like a child at Christmas time. "Isn't this just fantastic!" she exclaimed, looking at her like she expected her prisoner to agree. Hesitantly, she nodded.

"Where am I?"

"You are in The Army, my dear, on Mount Tamaulipas." She told her happily, like they were friends having a coffee and exchanging the events of the day, not two women, one a prisoner and the other some sort of hellish demon.

She checked a name off her list, and the girl tried to see, but the woman covered it up. She smiled at her. "Do you know how you died?"

She had to think about it really hard, but then the answer came to her. "I was saving my friends." The woman laughed.

"You're not a very typical daughter Hades, then, now are you? Hmm, we'll just have to work that out of you later. You know, we're trying to keep a record of all our initiates, so we know how to behave around them. Everyone's different." She simply scribbled something next to her name, and although she couldn't see that, she caught the word next to it written in pen.

_Hero_.

Was she a hero? Yes, she supposed she was. She'd gone down trying to save her friends, that much she remembered. But she couldn't remember from what, or even exactly how she died. All she remembered was a first name and a boy's face. A beautiful boy's face.

Then the woman grinned up at her. "Bianca di Angelo, welcome to The Army. You will be Prisoner Number Three-Hundred-and-Forty. Please..."

As she was led away by a couple monsters, she did not fight. Her last name was di Angelo. She was a daughter of Hades. She was a Huntress. She was a hero. And she was quite sure she had a little brother who she would stop at nothing to find.

The infirmary was jam-packed with people trying to catch a glimpse of their praetor, selfishly shoving and elbowing their friends aside for a better look. Frank was disgusted. Here he was, trying to be there for his friend when he needed him, and everyone was treating Percy like some zoo attraction.

"Did you hear...?"

"...tried to kill Zhang..."

"...working with the enemy..."

"Lupa had to bite off his leg..."

"Octavian said..."

Frank couldn't take the babbling anymore. He shoved past a boy from the Third Cohort and finally made it to the front of the crowd. Lying on the bed with Hazel sitting in a chair beside him, Percy slept soundly, unaware of the cruelty of the campers around him. Frank immediately sat next to Hazel and stared at his unconscious friend, trying to piece together everything that happened in his mind.

Like an idiot, he hadn't listened to his girlfriend when she told him Percy had gone through a lot in a very short amount of time. Instead of trying to help Percy through his pain, Frank had gotten angry at him for grieving more than others. He'd ignored his friend when he clearly was calling out for help. What had he expected? Percy to just suddenly recover and turn back to normal? He was disgusted with himself for the way he had acted. Like a child.

He still remembered the fight with Percy at the Little Tiber. After him and Hazel realized what Percy was doing, he transformed into a bird and changed back in front of him, just before Percy could step into the river. He had expected to show up and Percy to give up, but that hadn't happened.

He had seen more pain and anguish in Percy's eyes than in a thousand faces of the army. People who had been in war didn't have expressions that fractured. He literally found himself trying to find his friend in those green hazes.

When Percy lunged toward him, trying to make it to the water, Frank rammed into him, sending him sprawling. But Percy recovered before Frank could talk some sense into him. He tried to kick Frank aside, but the son of Mars stood firm and caught his foot, just barely. Percy whipped around and landed a hammer punch to the side of Frank's face, and he let go of his foot, Percy wet his shoe in the water that time before Frank swept him back

"Percy," he said breathlessly. "Stop," But Percy wasn't listening to him. He scrambled to his feet, but instead of charging Frank again, he reached behind his back and drew a knife that had been hidden under his shirt. Frank's eyes widened. "Percy, it's me, Frank. You're not going to..." But he wasn't, and Frank realized it almost too late.

Percy raised the knife above his head, too far away from Frank to hurt him, and Frank lunged after him, stopping the knife seconds before it stabbed his best friend in the heart. For what felt like hours, Frank wrestled with Percy over the weapon, trying to get the upper hand, but their motivations were completely different. Frank wanted to stop Percy from making the biggest mistake of his life, and Percy to end it.

He was screaming at Frank the entire time, incoherent words of pain and strife echoing in his ears. When Hazel had miraculously reached them, calling Percy's name, clearly under the same impression Frank had initially been, he thought maybe Percy would stop the insane behavior. But Hazel to pull him off Frank, just in time for Frank to wrap his fingers around the knife so Percy let go. He let out a sigh of relief, but it didn't last, because a wave crashed into him.

He felt the knife leave his grip and was horrified that Percy would get it and finish the job. He fought against the Tiber with all his might, but he just wasn't strong enough to fight against the powerful river and the son of Neptune at the same time. Eventually, he did drag himself onto the shore, soaking wet, and when he did he saw Bobby having a lot of trouble holding Percy back while the praetor shouted about him not being able to take it anymore. Frank could bear looking into his eyes, knowing that he was somewhat responsible for how far Percy had gone.

In the end, it had been Frank that stopped Percy, slamming him into the ground and winning the fight, but just barely. Hazel held the knife at that point, staring at Frank in horror, tears in her eyes while she searched his for an explanation, and all he could do was shake his head. He didn't know anymore.

He knew even less now, watching Percy snore peacefully. No one could take him for suicidal or crazy then, resting his head on his pillow, mouth slightly ajar and still as a tree. Except for the occasional twitch of his legs or wince of his shut eyelids, the mumbling of horror and pain that couldn't be understood as anything but gibberish. Other than that, he looked perfectly normal.

Frank felt Hazel's hand on his arm and looked up, spotting Octavian at the front of the crowd, holding a lacerated teddy bear in his left hand and a familiar knife in the other. Frank looked at Hazel in horror, but she just shook her head. She hadn't given it to him. He had stolen it.

Octavian smiled at the knife in his hand, admiring it. "So this is the infamous knife that nearly claimed the life of our very young praetor," he mused pleasantly, like the fact Percy had nearly committed suicide amused him.

"Get out, Octavian." Frank growled darkly, not wanting Percy to wake up and find the disgusting augur staring down at him. Octavian just smiled and walked over to the foot of Percy white bed, grinning like a madman. Which, of course, he was.

"My auguries have told me there will be many trials left for the Seven to face. And that one," he stared down at Percy. "Will betray you." Frank couldn't believe his ears. Not only did Octavian have the gall to intrude on Percy's sleep, he was also calling him a traitor. Frank was sick and tired of Octavian's tricks and useless prophecies. And the way he called them _his_ auguries, like they could exist without him, pushed Frank over the edge.

He started to stand, but Hazel pulled him back down and mouthed _Calm down._ He forced himself to sit back down. Luckily, just then, Reyna appeared in the front, unhindered by crowd because they had simply made an isle for her to pass through. She turned to the gathered Romans and declared shortly, "Leave now,"

There were a few murmurs of reluctance, but the room was rapidly cleared. Reyna turned back to Frank and Hazel, and her eyes hovered over Percy's peaceful sleeping face. She swallowed. "He will be put on trial for attempted desertion." She said patiently. Frank just stared at her. "If he is convicted, then the sentence will be carried out. But we can hope this is seen as a fluke and he is not."

Hazel voiced Frank's thoughts for him. "What is the sentence if he is convicted?" Reyna didn't answer for a moment, and then waved Octavian out.

"But..." he objected. Reyna repeated the gesture, and the augur left, shooting a dark glare at his praetor's back before closing the door.

"If he is convicted," Reyna muttered. "There are only two possible sentences. Either he will be stripped of his rank as praetor and forced to do the grunt work the remainder of his ten years of service, or..." Reyna bowed her head like she didn't want to finish what she was about to say. She drew in a shaky breath, and Frank braced himself. "Or he will be executed for crimes against the People of Rome."

Frank didn't even notice as Reyna walked out, leaving them with that ominous close. He was just staring at his best friend, afraid of what was coming. If they killed Percy, what was the Seven to do? He was their leader, without him the whole thing had been for nothing. Without him, the prophecy could not be completed. Without him, Frank would be back to square one. Rank-less, clumsy Frank Zhang.

Percy grunted, and Frank jumped out of his skin. Then he saw the knife, which Octavian must have placed on the table next to the praetor. Frank snatched it and tucked it under his butt before Percy could see.

"Wah..." he muttered. "What the...where am I?" he asked drowsily. Frank looked at Hazel desperately, and she placed a comforting hand over Percy's.

"You're in the infirmary, Percy. That's all." Hazel smiled encouragingly, and Percy sat up, holding his head. Frank remembered how hard Percy's head had hit the ground when he tackled him and winced.

"The infirmary?" he said, clearly surprised. "Why the heck am I in the infirmary?" Frank exchanged looks with Hazel, who shrugged.

"I think you know the answer to that, Percy." She told him patiently. Percy just laughed and rolled his eyes at her.

"Don't play games, Hazel. Just tell me why I'm here."

Hazel stared at the ground, and Frank knew it was as hard on her as it was on him, maybe more. Hazel had always been uniquely close to Percy, maybe not as much as she was to Frank, but still close. And the way Percy had been, hysterical and half-mad, was the scariest thing either of them had ever seen.

"Percy, do you, uh, do you remember what you did?" Percy raised his eyebrows at her and chuckled.

"Yeah, I took some weird scroll thing from Tyson, and now I need to warn Camp about the ship coming so they don't shoot it out of the sky." He moved to sit up, but Hazel pulled him back down, horror etched across his face.

"That's the last thing you remember?" she demanded, panic edging on her voice. Percy looked a little surprised at her reaction.

"Yeah. What did I miss?" Hazel and Frank exchanged another look, this one scared to death.

"Percy, it's been two weeks since then." Percy stared at her for a moment, but then smiled expansively.

"You mean Annabeth's already here and I _missed it_? Wise Girl is going to kill me." he jumped out of bed and ran to the door before Hazel or Frank could stop him, yanking it open while saying, "Sorry I'm late, sweetheart, I just..." but he stopped when he saw there was no Annabeth on the other side of the door. He turned to Hazel and Frank, confused. "Where are they? I know they were coming on that ship."

Hazel looked at the ground intently, and Frank stared out the window. Neither could meet the curious eyes of their friend. Their very disturbed friend. Finally, Hazel took a step forward, to Frank's eternal gratitude. She placed a comforting hand on Percy's shoulder, which he promptly shook off. "Where are they, Hazel?" he repeated, more carefully this time, like he was afraid they wouldn't understand. Hazel looked back to Frank for guidance, but Frank had nothing.

Hazel took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Percy, maybe you should sit down." Percy didn't move for the chair offered to him. He remained rooted to the stop, stubbornly determined not to realize the obvious. Convinced in his mind that his friends could not possibly be dead.

"Where are they?" his voice was controlled now, threatening. Frank urged Hazel to finish before Percy's fragile mental state broke.

"Percy, the ship..."

"The _Argo II,_" he corrected. Hazel nodded.

"The _Argo II_...it didn't make it to land." Percy stared at her, uncomprehending. Hazel kept trying. "Something went wrong on the ship, and-and...Percy, it exploded." Hazel finished desperately.

Percy didn't even blink an eye. He turned to Frank, as if the son of Mars would disagree with Hazel. He waited expectantly, but when Frank closed his eyes, Percy turned back to Hazel. "She isn't dead." He told her. "I'd know if she was dead. She isn't dead." Hazel just shook her head.

"Percy, that explosion was huge. There were no survivors. I'm sorry." Percy shook his head, like he was lecturing Hazel, trying to tell her politely that she was wrong. When Hazel didn't say anything more, didn't try to convince him further, he waited. He tucked his hands in his pockets and watched her, then turned his attention to Frank. When neither friend gave any indication of a joke or prank, Percy's eyes widened and he stumbled back.

He buried his face in his hand and shook his head over and over, muttering "No," under his breath. It was painful to watch, especially after seeing how far unglued Percy had gotten after the first time he'd lost his friends. Frank wondered how close he had been to them and felt a little envious toward the deceased, but immediately scolded himself for feeling that way. Percy had known the demigods from Camp Half-Blood far longer than he had Camp Jupiter. That was all.

When Percy looked up from his palm, his face was streaked with tears. "Why was I in the infirmary, Frank?" Frank gulped nervously. How was he supposed to tell his best friend that he'd tried to commit suicide and forgotten? Maybe Frank should lie, make something up, convince him he could into an altercation with Octavian and that was all, but something told him Percy wouldn't buy it. Percy wouldn't believe something as weak as that. Frank had no choice but to tell him the truth, however painful that might have been to do.

"You were trying to leave Camp Jupiter," he said finally, shocking Percy. "And you were bringing a knife to kill yourself. I was the one who got it away from you before..." he didn't finish. The look of horror and revulsion on Percy's face hit a familiar chord in Frank's memory. Percy turned away from them, making retching noises in his throat like he was trying to form words.

"Why-why would I do something like that?" Percy muttered. Frank wasn't even sure if Percy was talking to him, but he answered anyway.

"I don't know, but you took their deaths pretty hard. You didn't really talk to anyone." Percy shook his head back and forth, like his neck was a broken spring. When he looked back up and turned to Frank, he distinctly heard Percy sniffle.

"Well, I can imagine why." Percy said quietly. "I have no life."

Frank watched the door swing closed behind Percy, jaw dragging on the floor. He looked at Hazel, who shrugged.

The two best friends of Percy Jackson trailed along behind him cautiously, wondering what crazy thing he would do next. Just then, someone ran up to Frank. "Centurion, sir, you are needed at the Tunnel. A half-blood requires assistance."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven: Awaken**

Nico murmured weakly in his sleep, and then shot up like a bullet, bolt upright in the middle of a dank cave with the familiar sound of water nearby. He looked around apprehensively and waited for Gaea's voice to enter his mind, as it had every night before, reminding him about of consequences of sleep. Instead, his inner thoughts were greeted with nothing more than his inner thoughts. There was actually an eerie quality to it, after so long having another person in your mind, and then suddenly, nothing.

Groggily, Nico pushed himself to his feet, but quickly discovered that his lack of food had left weak and unable to support his own weight. He slipped on the slick cave floor, and he landed hard on his butt. "Ow," he mumbled angrily, upset at his own inability to help himself.

He heard soft, wet footsteps growing closer and closer to him, and strained his neck around. A teenage girl, no older than he was, smiled down at him and offered him a square of ambrosia. "Hello, son of Hades. I am glad you are awake."

Nico noted her different inflictions and strange accent carefully, cautiously taking the ambrosia square and studying it suspiciously. She laughed. "Please, do not think I would attempt to poison you. I swear upon my home city of Crete and upon the River Styx that I have no other purpose but to bring you back to health."

Nico stared at her in a mixture of alarm and horror. He paid special attention to her uniquely fair face, dark and tan, like his own, with deep eyes of a blend of colors. Her golden brown hair fell down her left shoulder, braided with gold and silver. She was quite beautiful.

"Who are you?" he demanded, scrambling back when she attempted to brush hair out of his face. She smiled weakly.

"My name is Ariadne, princess of Crete." Nico could only gap at her. Another smile. "I am well aware of my long death. I can even remember my time in Elysium Fields." As rarely as Nico smiled, this woman seemed to be his polar opposite. She was always smiling. The only thing that changed was how wide or meaningful her smile was. She could have been angry enough to kill him and Nico wouldn't have known.

Then it occurred to Nico that she _remembered _being dead. "And I also aware of the rarity it is for someone like myself to know about their death. Perhaps the Fates smiled upon me when I arose from the Underworld, or perhaps I was simply blessed Tyche, goddess of fortune. I am not sure. All I know is that I found you, lost in the many hills of what I am to know is called Rome, and was driven to bring you here and care for you."

Nico suppressed the urge to laugh. That speech sounded remarkably like one of those cheesy destiny bits on the Romance movies Annabeth occasionally forced Nico to watch. How girls could enjoy watching those overdramatic cliché movies Nico would never know. It hadn't been until Annabeth had convinced him to literally sit through one of those things at her apartment that Nico truly began to understand the definition of a "chick-flick."

"Can you read my mind or something?" he demanded. He was actually being serious, because she had correctly guessed and answered his inner dialogue without skipping a beat, but the princess laughed.

"No, of course not. I am merely very adept at understanding expressions." She sat down beside Nico, and he noticed that the hem of her silver Greek dress was soaked. She didn't seem to care, though. "So, tell me, what has changed in the world since my time?"

Nico leaned away from her. He still wasn't entirely sure he could trust her. The very fact that she had returned from death meant she had some favor from Gaea, and that meant she could not be completely trusted. But then again, Nico had not met anyone before his age who he could actually talk to without feeling shut out. Ariadne, undead or no, actually was making an effort to talk to him, which, except for Annabeth, no other girl had done before.

While he wrestled with his indecision, Ariadne waited with the patience of a predator. Not exactly an analogy Nico liked, but it certainly seemed to fit the princess' behavior. Her legs were tucked up under her, her hands folded calmly on her lap, and her iridescent eyes bore into him thoughtfully, cautiously. He got the feeling he was not the only distrusting one there.

"Well, first off, we don't use boats so much anymore." Ariadne's mouth dropped open in surprise. He'd guessed that would have gotten her. Greece was big on sailing.

"If you do not sail, then how do you travel? Has humanity simply lost the will to explore?" Nico laughed and shook his head.

"No, we just prefer to fly." Ariadne gasped, obviously shock on her face. "We fly in what we call planes. P-L-A-N-E-S. They're kind of like birds, only a loud bigger and louder." He remembered how painful it was to hear an F-16 break the sound barrier right above your head.

Ariadne looked intrigued, so he continued. "And we don't fight with swords anymore. I mean, some of us do, like half-bloods..."

"Half-bloods?" Ariadne asked, puzzled. Nico was a little surprised. Of course she wouldn't be familiar with that phrase. It had come after her time.

"Demigods, like Theseus," Ariadne got a dreamy look in her eyes when he mentioned the ancient hero's name. "Anyway, we tend to fight with guns nowadays." He didn't want to explain the concept of a gun to Ariadne, even though she asked him to. It was just too complicated. "And most people don't believe in the gods."

Ariadne did not seem alarmed by this at all. She just sighed sadly and bowed her head. "Yes, it was inevitable. The Greek Gods of old were bound to fade from the minds of the human race as we advanced. It is unfair, really, that so many children will never know their divine heritage." Nico nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, that's what Camp Half-Blood is for." he told her. The following explanation was long and drawn out, most of the expected monologue being interrupted by Ariadne's frequent and annoying questions. How were you supposed to explain to a girl from Ancient Greece about New York City or the United States of America without going into the entire history? After Nico had finished explaining, he was out of breath and thoroughly fed up with questions all together. He never wanted to hear another sentence that ended with that stupid little squiggly mark again.

Ariadne seemed to notice his bad mood. She stood and smiled down at him. "Thank you, son of Hades. I am very grateful for your time. I will get you food now."

Nico realized she was leaving, and something made him grab her skirt, stopping her. She turned and looked down at him, taken aback. "My name is Nico," he told her.

This smile seemed more real and meaningful than all of the others. It was a pleasant, caring expression; her light pink lips raising just enough to show her perfectly aligned white teeth. Nico almost sighed.

"Thank you, Nico. That's a nice name."

* * *

_Did you...did you love me?_

_There was a time I thought...you were like a brother to me; Luke, but I didn't love you._

The son of Hermes was tortured with the memory of his last exchange with the woman he had coincidentally fallen in love with, along with a certain son of Poseidon, no doubt. Because if Percy Jackson did not love her, Luke Castellan swore he could rip his throat out.

Annabeth had been so young when Luke first met her, a vulnerable little seven year old girl with a fiery spirit. Luke had instantly taken a liking to her, but it hadn't been until much later, when he watched her blossom into a gorgeous teenage girl, that the deeper emotions began to surface. Of course, by that time, Luke had already betrayed the gods and started a war where the two demigods were on opposite sides.

He hadn't been able to name the strange feeling he'd felt in his chest when Percy Jackson first came to Camp Half-Blood. Instantly, he'd felt a hatred toward him, a kind of envious disdain that was so alien to Luke, he couldn't figure out why. But eventually, the real reason showed itself when the two demigods returned from their quest.

He had been enraged when he discovered Annabeth would go on that doomed endeavor with the marked-for-death son of Poseidon. He had even tried to talk Annabeth out of it as a last resort, appeal to her logical side, but the heroic gene that all demigods were born with burned stronger. Although Annabeth would have never admitted it, part of the reason she was so determined to accompany Percy was not because she felt obligated to stop a Civil War, but actually because she had begun to fall in love with him.

Luke had tried to convince Annabeth to side with the Titans. His illusions of grandeur clouded his better judgment. He had wanted Annabeth to live, and to live with him, but he had convinced himself that the Titans would win the war, despite prior evidence to the contrary. He had forgotten the primal most law, the function that existed throughout every war and was the focus of every fairytale; good triumphs over evil. Always.

If he had realized that lesson sooner, things would have been different. The deaths that had transpired in the course of the war would never have occurred, and Annabeth might even have chosen Luke, but he had been stubborn in his ways. He refused to accept that he had been wrong, and that Kronos was far more flawed than the gods could ever be. The Olympians were not the best divine leadership there could be, but considering the alternatives, Luke now realized they were the best he could get. Maybe if another force arose, then there could be change, but only then. There was no one better.

Annabeth had known that. Even the thick-headed son of Poseidon had known it. But Luke had not.

Luke staggered and collapsed to the ground, his legs giving way. He tried to use the brick wall to pull himself to his feet, but even his arms didn't seem to have enough in them to function. Behind him he could still hear the snarling and hissing and snapping of his pursuers, hot on his heels. They were only a block away; three dracaena, five empousa, and seven Cyclopes. All of them had been sent after Luke, not because he was an escapee, there were a lot of those, but because he was quite possibly the only demigod that could actually alert Camp Half-Blood to their plot.

The snarling got closer, and despite how exhausted he felt, Luke knew he had to start moving. Using the building to first pull himself into a sitting position, and then finally onto his feet, Luke stumbled farther into the dense, near impossible shadow of the alley.

His stomach rumbled. His throat was parched. And more than anything else, his body called out for sleep. But all of that would have to wait until he could reach a safe place, safely concealed away from the sensitive noses of his enemies.

Monsters could find demigods kind of like pigs found truffles. Through smell. The stronger a demigod was, the longer they'd known about their heritage, and the more experience they had in monster killing were all contributing factors to the strength of their scent. Luke was a son of Hermes, and although the messenger god was not the strongest of the Olympians, he still held a lot of clout up there. Luke had known he was a demigod for more years than he cared to count. And he'd massacred armies of monsters and other rivals. Meaning that his scent couldn't really get any stronger than that. Unless he had a certain son of Poseidon with him. Then there would be no rest.

The worst part about being a demigod was that it is virtually impossible to cover up your scent. The normal methods of throwing a bloodhound off wouldn't work against the minions of Tartarus. The only way to hide was to immerse yourself so completely with the surrounding scent of mortality that no possible monster could ever pick you out from the reek of bad hygiene. Drunks worked wonders for that, mostly any addicts could hide you, but usually you had to live with them for months before it was effective enough. That's why a lot of mortal parents of demigods who knew about it did their best to live with the most repulsive ranking human being alive.

But Luke didn't have that option. He had tried blending in with the crowd of commuters on the streets, but as banged up as he was, no one got within ten meters of him, making him easy pickings for the monsters. So he ducked into the allies, but that took him away from his concealment. There wasn't much else he could do though. He had to keep moving.

He was fairly sure he was out of San Francisco, and the outline of a mountain certainly wasn't Mount Tamaulipas, but for the life of him he couldn't think of what it was. He saw the rolling hills in the distance, and their name was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't conjure it up from the confusion of his mind.

Almost like a cloud had been drawn over his thoughts, separating understanding from the idea itself. Everything he thought of was so vague and hard to decipher, he half wanted to give up. His movements were slowed, and every step felt like an elephant's foot hitting the earth.

In his distant memory, he recalled sprinting across traffic down some highway overlooking the sea. Meaning he was definitely out of San Francisco. Or was he? He'd had delusions a few times since the beginning of his escape. Dreamt Annabeth was there and he was talking to her. Prepared to defend himself against Nico di Angelo, son of Hades. Argued with Percy Jackson over who more deserved the daughter of Athena. The last was childish to say the least, but as unwell as Luke was, there was no control over his mind and jealous tendencies.

He could only hope that he was far away from that cursed mountain, but he could not be sure.

Finally, he ran out of alley to transverse. He came to the crest of a hill, and at the bottom a chain-link fence. Beyond it, cars whizzed back and forth over something that looked like a dented snack tray. The tunnel they passed through had a maintenance hatch in between the north and south exits, and Luke briefly considered hiding there. But he would have to climb the fence first to do that.

He stumbled and slid down it, eventually not bothering to stay on his feet. It took forever getting down, in meantime the monsters were catching up. He glanced behind him and saw a dracaena slither into view, hissing in victory and pointing down at him. There was no going back now. He had committed himself to getting over that fence, and he could just have to do it.

But the minute his right hand's fingers coiled around the wire and he tried to haul himself up off his feet, it became apparent that he would not be able to do it. He was too weak, too exhausted. The dumpster diving he'd been doing for food hadn't been sufficient. The water he'd sipped from the ocean had made him ill. The hit and go naps he'd taken on benches for recuperating had not given him the energy he needed to do one last stupid stunt. He could not get over the fence. It was over.

"I'm sorry, Silena," he muttered beneath his breath, lying back against the hard earth while sleep dragged on his eyes. "I failed," Then he turned and saw the dracaena were not capable of making it down the hill without something to hold on to. The empousai and Cyclopes did not have that problem. The earth trembled beneath the unbelievable weight of the one-eyed brutes, and they gained on him steadily.

He looked back across the fence and spotted something he hadn't seen earlier. Three demigods, armed to the teeth in front of the maintenance tunnel. Could it be more than just an electricians and mechanics in?

He couldn't raise his voice to call for help, to tell them he was from Camp Half-Blood. But he hadn't needed to. One of them, the biggest, saw the monsters bearing down on him from the crest of the hill, and the other pointed him out through the bushes. Luke didn't believe in miracles, but he was sure one had just happened.

The demigods ran toward him, but the monsters were closer, and they were coming down hill. He'd be overtaken before they reached him. They looked behind them at a man who'd just passed the door, a forth savior, and this one had a bow. He shot one Cyclops just a few inches from the single eye in the middle of its head. Then he followed through with another arrow smack-dab in the middle of his large brown orb. The Cyclops howled, stumbling backward in a daze, and a third arrow to the neck finished him off.

The first three half-bloods resumed their crossing of traffic, while the bowmen fired arrow after accurate arrow, vaporizing monsters as they came down the hill. But he didn't have an endless supply, and it started to seem to Luke that either the monsters had gotten backup between now and the time he had last seen them, or they didn't stay dust. Because what looked like the exact same demons was still bearing down on him, looking more and angrier each time.

Finally, the three reached the fence. One of them easily hopped over it, but he couldn't haul Luke back up, no matter how hard he tried. An empousa reached them, and Luke winced, but just then his attempted savior ran her through with a short, faintly glowing sword. Luke was puzzled. It had killed the monster, but it wasn't Celestial bronze. Was there another metal capable of killing monsters?

"Larry, spread it! She'll rematerialize if you don't!" The half-blood trying to help him, Larry, glanced up at his desperate friend, a girl, Luke realized from her voice, and did as he was instructed. The golden dust was only starting to reform when Larry's boot broke it up again.

That momentary lapse of time had given a chance to the other monsters to reach them. Larry vaporized another Cyclops, but he was surrounded by the remainder of his friends, including the previously dusted one at the top. As Larry was mercilessly wailed on, Luke was hauled to his feet by and empousa. He didn't meet her eyes, but looked straight ahead, not daring to let himself fall into her spell. "You thought you'd warn your Roman friends, no did you?" she asked sweetly, her claws pressing against his side. If they had penetrated, Luke would be dead, but they hadn't. She wanted him alive.

Maybe that was his advantage.

Conjuring the last of his strength, he started wiggling in her grasp, wincing as arches of pain spread through his body. She tried to get him to stop, but eventually she was forced to release, his side, and Luke kicked her in the chest.

It was weak. It barely made her stop, but it was enough for her to let go of his hair. He swept a leg under her, and she collapsed. Another demigod through him a short sword through the fence, and despite the unfamiliar design and weight, Luke could still stab. The blade sunk into the area where he cold heard would be, she burst apart. Remembering the girl's warning, he used his foot to spread her essence thinner before redirecting his attention to a Cyclops.

Luke was lucky it was a Cyclops, because as slow and weak as he was, any other advisory would have easily killed him. But he could still barely duck under its swings and dive below its lunges, getting behind the brute and running him through the back. The sword did not retain the usual elegance it did in Luke's hands because of his exhaustion, but it did the job. Another she-demon lunged at him, and he dodged sideways, cutting off her head directly over where he had the Cyclops. Both essences attempted to reform at the small time, making them dance around each other in confusion until they formed a twisted monster, part empousa, part Cyclops. They were so busy trying to detach themselves to worry about Luke and the other half-bloods.

With Luke in the fight and the other two over the fence, the fight was short work. The monsters were desperately trying to reform, but there was no much confusion between whose essences belonged to whom that they couldn't do it. The one that had started the half-breed trend was still stumbling around, harmless.

The other three half-bloods cheered in victory, and the archer on the other side of the fence skidded to a stop. He pulled an arrow from his quiver, examined it, and fired it over the fence. At first Luke thought it was a ceremonial thing, but than that part of the fence exploded, leaving a clear path to the street and the tunnel beyond.

The girl choked on the dust. "Geez, Frank. Can't you give forewarning first?" The archer shrugged in embarrassment and waved them on through.

Luke took a step forward and immediately collapsed. His adrenaline based fuel was gone, leaving him worse than before. He struggled, vainly, to crawl on his own, but he couldn't do it. "Stop," the girl ordered. She checked his pulse and looked up at his comrades. "He needs ambrosia and nectar immediately. And he's bleeding in every place you can think to bleed."

He was bleeding? But that was impossible. He couldn't be bleeding. If he was bleeding, that meant he was dead. So that couldn't be blood she saw.

"Come on, Gwen. Looks like it's a rough break from college after all." laughed Larry. Luke didn't know what he was talking about. A half-blood in college? He'd never heard of anything more absurd.

Well, unless you count the Cyclops/empousa bumping into trees.

Luke felt arms wrap underneath his armpits and he was dragged through the smoky ruin of the fence, across apprehensive drivers watching the group of kids carry a sick adult across the median, and to the Caldecott Tunnel. Gwen looked down at him and smiled. "Welcome to Camp Jupiter, demigod."

That was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.


	8. Chapter 8

**This one is actually pretty short. If you're used to my longer chapters: sorry. I'm letting the story take its own agenda. It'll move at the pace the chapters make sense to move.**

**Chapter Eight: Fair**

Leo was both psyched and really confused.

The pretty girl snuggling up next to his leg had thought he was a monster, which didn't sit right with Leo. Sure, he wasn't a normal demigod, but he wasn't bad enough to be mistaken for some bloodthirsty demon, was he? Of course, he still hadn't seen himself in a mirror, and part of him was kind of afraid he looked kind of dead.

He remembered the explosion and the flash of light. He vividly remembered dying. But then, while he was in line with a bunch a ghosts and some weird guy in an Italian suit was asking for money, he felt something pull on him. He just drifted away, and the next thing he knew, he was freezing to death in a blizzard. He wasn't even sure where he was, except nowhere good. Dirt Woman was never a good sign.

The girl stirred. He looked down at her and smiled as her pretty green eyes found his. He resisted the urge to caress her face and hair, as he had done a couple of time while he was sleeping. He knew he'd just spur his advances like every other girl did, but he felt some kind of connection to her. He wanted a friendship at the very least, and scaring her off with his brilliant pick-up lines wasn't going to help that.

"Hey," he smiled, unable to resist the urge. She shot upright, alarmed at his nearness. He winced. "Sorry, you were asleep and I didn't want to wake you." She watched him with those gorgeous eyes, deep and rational. He recognized that kind of cold reasoning from the grey eyes of Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena. But this girl's eyes held no stormy quality, save for their pure intensity. And Leo had yet to meet a child of the wisdom goddess without grey eyes. This new demigod was not a daughter of Athena.

The girl was silent for several long moments. She glanced at the fire he had created, not for him, but for her. He doubted she would be willing to snuggle against him for warmth, so he just gathered some of the driest wood he could find and set it ablaze with a single spark from his palm. There was no gratitude in her eyes as she puzzled over the fire, just relief. Then she turned her beautiful green eyes back to Leo, and suspicion burned in their depths.

"Who are you?" The question made Leo laugh, surprising the girl. He offered her his hand, which she stared at in disgust.

"I've already told you, the incredibly awesome and apparently undead Leo Valdez." The girl's eyes darted back up to meet his, and shock flashed across her face.

"You were on fire." She said. Another laugh was wrenched from his lips. Despite Leo's confusion at being alive and his apprehension around this strange new girl, Leo couldn't but relax around her. She had an alluring quality he couldn't put his finger on, and it wasn't charisma.

"Yeah," Leo chuckled. "Comes with the territory. Sorry if I scared you, but man, was I cold. It's freezing out there, you know."

"Yes," she said. "I do know." They sat in uncomfortable silence for several moments. She kept glanced at the mouth of the cave and the blanket of white covering it with wistful eyes, like any moment she was going to bolt. Leo tried to think of a conversation starter, but he was coming up blank. That's when he remembered he hadn't asked her name.

"So, err, what's your name?" he asked apprehensively, watching to gage her reaction. When she hesitated, he figured she wasn't willing to divulge. "Okay, so what's the name you want to go by?"

She stared at him in a mixture of shock and gratitude. Then, she lowered her head and thought. "Well...I guess Augusta. I always liked that name." Leo nodded. Augusta worked.

"Can I call you Aug?" he asked, biting back a laugh.

"No," she told him firmly, and he figured to let the subject drop. Augusta tucked her legs underneath her and tried to pull her jacket tighter around her torso, shivering violently in the cold. She looked up at Leo, wearing nothing but his orange Camp Half-Blood t-shirt and jeans, and scowled. "How can you not be cold? It's fifteen below out there!"

Leo couldn't suppress the laugh, even though it only seemed to aggravate the girl further. "Remember what I told you about being on fire coming with the territory?" she nodded glumly, and then shivered again. Leo sent another spark toward the fire and felt it get a little hotter.

Augusta caught the tendril of flame leave his hand and immediately scampered back in terror. "Did you just... How did you...What..." she couldn't seem to finish the questions.

"I'm a fire user," he explained easily. It was relieving now, knowing that no matter what anyone thought of his condition, he still had a home that knew about it and could appreciate him for who he was, not what. Still, seeing the cold terror on Augusta's face stung."In other words, I am really hot." Leo was trying to break the ice, or at least crack it, but Augusta didn't laugh. She just stared at him.

"I've seen the movie Fire Starter, you know." She warned. "You don't have a telekinetic father you want to avenge, do you?" Leo just stared at her for a moment, finding it difficult to wrap around her words. When a grin broke out across Augusta's face, he roared with laughter.

He rocked back and forth from the pure stupidity of her question, and the fact that more than likely, that was the concern of everybody else. Suddenly, Leo didn't feel so different or ostracized anymore. He finally had someone to blame. Hollywood.

"No," he breathed in between laughs. Augusta was chuckling too. "And I'm a _guy_, not a girl. It is not my fault the casted a little kid for that role." Augusta was laughed a little louder now, and Leo could feel the tension between them ease up just a little. Just enough that Augusta wasn't leaning away from him quite so much. It was a nice feeling.

"Thanks," she said, staring at the fire and rubbing her hands quickly over her arms. "For the fire, I mean. And getting me out of that cold. You're right, it is freezing out there." Augusta continued to shiver uncontrollably, and no matter how much heat Leo added to the flame, it wasn't enough. He felt a twinge in his heart, seeing her so cold and him without any excess clothing on, perfectly fine. It was unfair to the both of them somehow.

Leo pursed his lips, trying to think of a way to ask the next question without making it seem like a come on. "You know, uh, I tend to be a little warmer than the average person, and..."

"Relax, Valdez, I get it. Move over so I've got more room." Leo breathed a sigh of relief and scotched over just enough for Augusta to wrap her arms around his chest and snuggle up close.

It was completely un-romantic. The only reason for it was so Augusta could stay warm, but something in Leo fluttered at the contact, like this reminded him of older, better times. He almost rested his head on top of Augusta's, but he restrained himself. After a while, Augusta began to snore, and he couldn't help but find the way her mouth hung open a little bit cute, and how her messy, short red stuck out in tuffs all over her head.

She was probably not the prettiest girl Leo had ever met. In the looks department, she had nothing on Piper even when Beauty Queen _was _wearing dumpster clothes, but she had something more. Piper was beautiful because of her mom, even if she never flaunted that fact. Thalia Grace, Jason's sister, was both unattainable and the daughter of Zeus, giving her an elusive quality that had to bring guys from all around. And his temporary crush, Khione, had been a cold-hearted witch and a goddess.

None of them were just nice looking. And for some reason, even though Augusta hadn't bathed in days and was drooling on him a little, Augusta was the nicest looking girl he'd ever met. In the firelight, she was flat gorgeous.

Leo didn't sleep that night. Just watched Augusta snore, determined that one day, he would find out her real name.

Annabeth was exhausted. She hadn't tired as quickly as Piper, who was less experienced, but she did tire. And now her legs felt like leg, her eyes refused to stay open, and she couldn't run straight. She had to stop.

She sagged against a large, moss covered rock and panted, holding up a hand. Piper crouched down next to her and offered her nectar, but she waved it away. "Attack," she gasped, then winced.

She wasn't just tired because of the constant running. She was wiped because she didn't have to sleep in order for the burning mark on her back to get worse. It was like an inferno raging across her back, making it nearly impossible for her to keep it hidden from Piper. And although nectar was supposed to ease her pain, she had tried both the food and the drink of the gods. Both only made it worse, and it lasted longer after she drank it.

"Annabeth," Piper said firmly, charmspeaking the daughter of Athena so much that Annabeth almost took it. Almost. "Drink it,"

"No," Annabeth breathed, shoving it aside.

"You're going to kill yourself like this. All I've been doing is sipping it, and it's been doing me wonders. Just drink a couple drops, Annabeth, please." Piper pleaded futilely with Annabeth, who was already determined not to touch that canteen, even if her life was slipping away through her fingers.

Piper thrust the canteen into Annabeth's hands and repeated the command. "Drink it," Annabeth's will nearly crumbled, but she held strong, slamming it down on the earth. Piper hastily picked it up before Gaea could get it, which Annabeth was sure she'd try. The last thing she'd want was Annabeth and Piper to make it to Camp Jupiter where they could at least partially unite the seven.

"Forget it," Annabeth snapped dazedly, resting her head against the rock weakly. "Just give me a few minutes and I'll be fi-AH!" she screamed, a rather painful stabbing sensation arching her back. She slipped off the rock and started writhing on the ground, no longer able to contain the unbelievable pain. Her careful facade had dropped the second that searing pain hit her, and now all of the agony was breaking past the dam.

Her vision flickered in and out, one moment crystal clear, the next black. Stars danced in front of her vision, and she didn't know how long she was screaming. She could've attracted the attention of every monster within a fifty mile radius, but at that moment she couldn't bring herself to care. Tears welled in her eyes, and her shoulder slammed repeatedly into the earth, as well as the underside of her knees and her already abused back, bruising every inch of skin. Cuts and bruises opened up, and Annabeth's throbbing skull didn't help her hazy thoughts.

She felt warm hands grip her shoulders and hold her down. Piper. She couldn't express her gratitude through the pain, but she was happy she no longer hurt other parts of her body. The wing on her back was bad enough. Through her thrashing and screaming, everything seemed to blend together, melding into one giant mess of pain and confusion.

Finally, she went limp, even more tired than before. Her breath was level, as it always was. The only marks of her pain were the expanding tattoo on her back and the bruises all over her body. Otherwise, no one would have known anything about her nightly agony, except, now, for Piper.

Piper was panting, probably from the effort of holding Annabeth down, maybe her lost charmspeak as well. She sat back on her heels and stared at Annabeth, who was staring to her left; the south. "What just happened?" Piper asked softly. Annabeth was silent for a long time, adding no sound to the quiet hills except for her breath. But finally, she realized it was unfair to keep Piper in the dark.

"It happens every night. That's why I have a key. There's something on my back, like a Henna tattoo, but Henna doesn't hurt. This does. Every night," Annabeth repeated, tears in her eyes again. She looked at Piper's indeterminate colored eyes desperately, trying to make her understand that she was sorry, but she couldn't help it. She tried to convey how lost and confused she was, how fed up, and how terrified. How absolutely terrified Annabeth felt. None of it was fair. None of it was right.

Piper didn't respond for a moment. Then: "Can I see?" Annabeth hesitated, and then rolled over. She felt her ratty, shredded t-shirt get lifted up all the way to her shoulder blades. Piper gasped in alarm and sympathy. "It's...it's...it's beautiful."

Annabeth didn't think it was beautiful. She hated it. She hated it so much there were no words in any language she knew to describe how much she hated it. It went beyond hate, or loathing, or disdain. It went beyond any of the numerous words Annabeth knew to describe it. Not even a blend of all of them could properly convey her hatred for that thing on her back. That single wing that haunted her fitful sleeps, her restless dreams. She wanted it gone, she wanted it erased, wiped away like the dirt on her skin in the shower. But no matter how hard she rubbed it, no matter how raw she made the surrounding skin in desperation to get rid of it, it never faded. It never went away. It was going to stay there, growing, expanding, tormenting her until her dying day. And she hated it.

"No, it isn't. It's horrible. It's horrible and it's not fair. It's..."

"A gift from your mother," Piper finished for her. Annabeth stopped and strained her neck to see, but of course, she couldn't. "It's an owl, Annabeth. It's a finished owl."

Tears fell to earth, tears of relief that her nights of torment were over. Tears of joy that she would no longer have to live with that unfinished wing. And tears of hate for what her mother had put her through.

"Your mother marked you," Piper told her. "A Mark of Athena,"


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Arrival

Reyna paced back and forth on Scipio, her light brown Pegasus. She was well aware of the nickname among the campers, Skippy, but she simply refused to refer to her trusted steed that way. While conducting announcements, she spotted Percy, with Hazel bringing up the rear. The former had not seemed to see the horror etched across Hazel's face yet.

The daughter of Pluto jogged up behind her friend, who whirled around on her. She took a step back and told him something in hushed words. Immediately, Percy relaxed and ran up to join Reyna in front. As Percy became visible to him, Octavian chose to horrid timing to call out, "Well, well, if it isn't our suicidal praetor. What other insane acts will he commit today?"

Laughter sounded throughout the ranks of the First and Second Cohorts, and Reyna saw Percy clench his fists at the slur, but he remained professional, to Reyna's relief. Perhaps a trial could be avoided after all.

Percy placed a hand on Scipio's neck and leaned close to her. "Frank ran to assist the half-bloods at the entrance. Apparently, they have a distressed demigod there. They needed the long-range support." Reyna nodded as tersely as she could. After her brief conference with Percy concluded, she recommenced her pacing of the Legion's lines.

"Cohorts," she said. "You all are aware of the...problem yesterday. And although it should and will be addressed, it must be handled later. As of now, we still edge on the brink of war, and we no longer have the promise of an alliance with the Greeks. This matter has not been addressed at length with the entire camp, only in Senate meetings, and now it must be."

Reyna sighed deeply and looked toward New Rome, where men and women were trudging up the hill from. The stopped with the other cohorts, not as organized, but still disciplined Romans."Those of you that I called here from New Rome, I must ask this of you. Will you fight again for Rome, against the forces of Mother Earth?"

Whispers of alarm spread through the adult residents, hushed tones being exchanged between wife and husband, father and daughter. Family squabbles arguing who will fight and who will not. Then, a twenty-or-so year old man stepped forward, holding hands with his small daughter."Praetor Reyna, some of us are not able to assist you in this war due to age or health. But those of us, who can, for willingness is not part of the problem, will help in any way we can."

Reyna let out a sigh of relief. She turned to the campers. "We must still somehow reach Rome and seal the Doors of Death. Without them shut, Gaea will surely prevail. But now we are in need of transportation. Your regular duties here will be put aside until that task is complete. Although I do not expect you to construct a Greek trireme or anything quite as extraordinary and elegant as the ship, due to time, I do hope you can make something quickly, efficiently, and something that will not let us down when we go to war. Until I say otherwise, you will not be working so much as Cohorts as you will with your siblings. I expect the Minerva and Vulcan campers to dedicate every moment they can spare to creating this war machine.

"Until this task is complete, there will be no war games. There will be no activities aside from preparing and training for war. Muster and set times for dinner will be ignored. The only set time will be breakfast as five-thirty in the morning for thirty minutes, no more, and no later. Any other food will be supplied by our wind spirits. I am afraid that this Camp will never be quite the same after this. I can only hope we win this war and our freedom from the fear of attack."

Percy was staring at Reyna in shock."You never discussed any of this with me." He told her. She nodded.

"Would you have agreed?" she asked sadly.

"Yes," Reyna's head shot up at the word, and the look of conviction on his face told her that he was telling the truth. He would have made the announcement if she had asked him to. It relieved Reyna to know that as silly or weak as Percy sometimes acted, he was a wise and courageous leader who knew about sacrifices.

Reyna swallowed and then raised her voice to the campers once again. "Dismissed. This will be the last united dinner for a long time, Legion. Enjoy it while it lasts,"

Before the campers could disperse and head toward the mess hall, a strangled yelp rang out from just in front of the Little Tiber. Reyna wheeled Scipio around in alarm to face the group of four demigods carrying a fifth in between them, all five looked beaten, battered, and bruised. Weapons hung haphazardly on their sides, limps hindered their progress forward, and monster dust was in their hair.

Larry was the first one to reach Reyna, panting and doubled over with exhaustion. "Praetors," he gasped. "A half-blood...monsters...wouldn't die..."

Percy tensed. Gwen was next, a blonde demigod dragged next to her. "We saw him on the other side of the fence, and it's lucky we did. He had an entire unit of monsters after him, and we had to spread their essence before they rematerialized.

Percy shook his head. "You didn't have to do that." He told them. "Thanatos can handle them now." They shook their heads.

"Tell that to the dead and reborn Cyclops Frank shot at the top of the hill." Frank told him. Percy ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief.

"Camp," the new demigods muttered."Must warn camp..." Percy stared at the demigod, something flickering across his face. "Camp Half-Blood..."

Everyone within earshot froze. All eyes turned to the blonde-haired half-blood. Gwen, in her alarm, accidentally dropped him, and he fell in a heap to the ground. She looked back up at Percy."A survivor?" she asked hesitantly. Percy didn't answer. He was staring at the demigod, who stirred.

He lifted up his head, and Reyna saw piercing blue eyes, full of pain and years of suffering. A jagged white scar ran across the left side of his face, and his rugged handsomeness was not lost on a nearby daughter of Venus, who sighed pathetically.

Reyna was immune to such things. She assumed the boy was a child of Venus, and turned to Percy for confirmation. The boy carried a Roman gladius, meaning he more than likely wasn't a survivor from the ship.

"If he was on the _Argo II_, then Annabeth Chase is an idiot. Which she isn't. Wasn't," he corrected painfully.

And then threw himself at the half-blood before he could stand.

Percy pinned him to the ground, his right hand grasping his shirt collar and his knee against the demigod's sternum. "How are you alive?" he demanded, slamming the newcomer's head against the ground. "Answer me!"

Reyna was about to protest that he hadn't really given the boy a chance _to_answer, but just then, the boy called out. "Stop!" he gasped desperately. Percy held his head off the ground and stared into his eyes. "I...I came here to warn you."

A fist connected with the right side of the man's face, and blood squirted from the victim's mouth. He spit out a tooth and looked up at his assailant hesitantly, like he was afraid of being hit again. Judging by the expression on Percy's face, Reyna thought that was a fair fear.

"You knew about Camp Jupiter?" Percy demanded. Reyna had never seen anyone quite as angry as Percy was at that moment, and prayed she never would again. Her only solace was the knowledge that his anger was not directed at her. If it had, Reyna wasn't sure she would survive the confrontation. "How long?"

"Camp Jupiter?" the man echoed in confusion. "What's Camp Jupiter?" Percy leaned off the demigod, looking forlorn. It was remarkable how quickly he had gone from red-hot anger to depressed calmness. It, once again, made Reyna reconsider previous misconceptions.

Percy didn't answer the man. Instead, he stood, stepping on his stomach as he did so. "As duly chosen praetor of Camp Jupiter," Percy declared, loud enough that the surrounding campers could hear. "I hereby hold you as prisoner, to be kept separate from the others of this camp until such a time as you are proven innocent and can be released into the public without risk of harm. Luke Castellan, you are now a prisoner of Rome."

After Percy's words, Luke was hauled to his feet by Larry and promptly handcuffed. He was led away, escorted by two armed guards. He was staring back at Percy in shock and surprise, then realization. "Wait," he called out, fighting against his guards without much luck. "Wait, I have to talk to you! People are in danger! Half-bloods need help! Listen to me! Percy, I need to talk to you! Percy, please...!"

His pleas were lost on the son of Neptune as he shoved his way through the crowd, calling, "Senate Meeting!" as he went. Shocked, the senators trailed behind him, Frank and Hazel in the lead.

Reyna did not hear what the three friends talked about. All she could tell was that Hazel and Frank were desperately trying to get answers out of Percy, and all he was doing was spitting noncommittal responses back at them. The son of Mars got increasingly angrier, and Pluto's daughter looked concerned. As they tried to reason with their friend, it became apparent that his emotional damage ran deeper than anyone could imagine.

The man she had chosen as praetor was as good as dead. Now Reyna had to decide if this new Percy Jackson was still a good leader, or if he was too firm in his commands. Only time would tell.

Percy marched off to the Senate House, where he shoved the door open. Reyna had not seen him deposit his pen-sword in the offered tray, but it was there when Reyna handed over her _pilum_and_gladius._She followed her praetor to his seat at the front of the gathering senators, and Hazel and Frank reluctantly sat in the front row. As everyone filed in and sat down in their appropriate places, Percy strolled up to his seat, but did not sit. Instead, he turned to face the confused masses with a mask of cool, controlled power.

"I'm sure you all are a little confused as to that exchange back there." He said as Reyna sat down in her matching chair. There were mutters and assent and nods all around. Percy waited for silence before continuing. "I believe you deserve an explanation. Simply put, the man you saw out there is Luke Castellan, son of Hermes. Or, as you would know him, Mercury. Last summer, he led the attack on Mount Olympus. Well,"Percy amended. "His _body_ led the attack on Mount Olympus. Kronos was currently using him as some kind of host."

Some of the senators weren't sure who Kronos was, and Reyna was forced to clarify. "You are telling me that the man out there, whom our very own Larry, Frank, and Gwen risked life and limb for, permitted Saturn to use him as...what? A host, you say?" Percy only nodded.

The knowledge was more than a little shocking. There was silence for several moments while everyone tried to comprehend what they had just been told. After about five minutes, Percy started talking again. "Luke is responsible for a lot of deaths. A lot of good people died on his order, and I'm kept sure there was a fair sure of them that died by his hand. But, I will let you know that in the end Luke risked everything to stop Kronos from attaining full power. Before Kronos could return in his own form, which would have doomed Olympus, Luke killed himself and blew Kronos so thin it is unlikely he will ever have to be dealt with again. Don't get me wrong, though. We thought that before. We were wrong."

Percy started pacing. Somehow, he didn't look as agitated as he did thoughtful. The back and forth movement drew in the attention of those who weren't paying so much of it to begin with. "Now, this being taken into account, I need your opinions on how to proceed. Luke is dangerous. He is quite possibly the best swordsman I have ever met, good enough to beat me easily, and you have all seen me fight. At Camp Half-Blood I am...I was undefeated. He's hard to beat on any field, and I need to know if you believe we can trust him enough to have his say or if..." Percy took a deep breath before saying the next part of his sentence. Reyna could see the internal conflict raging in his eyes, the pain he was feeling at quite possibly ordering the death of someone who might easily have been the last Greek alive. It must have killed him to finish. "I need to know if you think we should hear him out or kill him before he has the chance to kill us."

The silence was denser this time, and a lot harder to break. Tension weighed heavily over the heads of the senators. Only the Lars had ever seen an execution. Those in that room were too young and inexperienced to truly know the gravity of what their praetor had just asked them. But Reyna understood. Percy had just turned to their camp to decide whether this newcomer, this Greek, would be allowed to live.

Reyna knew Percy was thinking over the decision in his own mind, but she also admired him for being able to pass on the choice. She could see in his eyes that he was too close to the situation to properly make the decision, and while a man's life hung in the balance, one had to remain objective.

Of course, the first one to speak was Octavian. "Well, the answer is obvious isn't it? He betrayed Olympus! He clearly cannot be trusted, and I certainly trust the word of our praetor. Kill him!"

But Reyna found something about his vote suspicious. "Really, Octavian?" she said quietly. "It was not long ago where you would have just as easily ordered Jackson's death. Where did this trust for your new praetor come from?" Percy was watching Octavian carefully, looking for any sign of deceit.

"Why, his triumph over the giant Polybotes, of course!" Octavian shouted proudly. Percy laughed.

"Oh, yeah, and whispering in my ear 'I hope it hurt' after giving me the Legion tattoo was a sign of your devote loyalty?" Reyna was shocked. Such conduct was ill advised when addressing the man who literally ran the camp. Reyna was tempted to order Octavian bound then and there. "There's more to this than you're telling us, Octavian. I'll admit, part of me wants to see Luke suffer, but not enough to discount an obvious lie when I see one."

Once again, Percy proved stronger than Reyna had thought. Perhaps he was still a fit praetor and the trial would not be necessary. Octavian started stammering. "My sincerest apologies, praetor sir, for my conduct earlier. I, as everyone else here, was merely caught up in the moment and the loss of the position of praetor. I still maintain that I would have made a good leader." Reyna watched carefully. Octavian's words weren't nearly as elegant or snakelike as usual. More blunt, as if he was so determined to see the newcomer executed that he would stop at nothing to see it done. "But, in light of recent events, it occurs to me that the stresses of late have clouded all our judgments. Even Jackson was prone to overreacting in the heat of grief and confusion. Not that that is a concern any longer," he added hastily, nodding to Percy when he did. "But still, this man is a definite problem. There is no reason to trust him after everything he has done. Let him be held responsible for his wrongs and put to justice!"

There were cheers from Octavian's followers, and Reyna began to see the trend with Octavian. He was bound and determined to see the _Argo II_ blown out of the sky, even though they were, indeed, allies. He advised against the quest to rescue Thanatos or providing aid to the quest group. During the Senate Meeting over what would be done about the army, he tried to convince the campers to attack first, even though that would have meant a massacre. Everything Octavian had moved for had been the exact opposite of what was wise, and now Reyna saw that Octavian was not just a dangerous speaker. He could very easily be a traitor. An extremely dangerous and slippery traitor.

Percy seemed to realize that too, because he shot a worried look toward Reyna. She nodded. It was time to call a vote before Octavian could say anything more. "Remember," Percy said. "Luke did try to make amends in the end. That should influence your decisions." He took a deep breath. "Now we call a vote," he muttered.

He ran his hand through his hair and dragged it down the side of his face. A shaky breath escaped as he favored each senator with a thoughtful stare. "Those of you, who move that Luke Castellan be given a chance to live and speak his mind, raise your hands." A few trembling hands went up, individuals who had noticed Octavian's untrustworthiness. But it was only about ten. "And those who move that he be executed?" Percy said quietly, already bowing his head in defeat.

Octavian's hand shot into the air, along with some twenty others.

Both praetors knew defeat when they saw it. Percy turned to Reyna and shook his head. She already knew what he was trying to tell her. _I didn't know he was planning this._ Reyna nodded her understanding. Percy turned back to the senator and said, "The decision has been made. Luke Castellan will be executed in the Field of Mars tomorrow afternoon. No one is to see him until then."

The order surprised Reyna. She had thought Percy would have asked he be heard before the sentence was carried out. Then he shot her a warning look, and she knew what he was doing. If people were allowing to see him, Octavian could kill him before he could tell anyone why he came. This way, Percy stood a chance of finding out on his way to the chopping block.

The senators and Lars left wordlessly, shuffling amongst themselves in solemnity at the decision they had just made. No one in that room had been elected because they were fools. They had been elected because they knew what they were doing. In some degree, Luke Castellan's death was on all of their heads.

Tomorrow afternoon, Gaea would win.

Nico stood at the top of the hill, looking out over the ocean wistfully. "You miss them." a voice said behind him. He did not have to turn to know who it was.

"They are my friends," he sighed. "And I lied to them. All of them," he turned. "I want to go back, but I don't know if I can."

Ariadne's piercing eyes seemed to go right past the wall of defense Nico had raised against the world, looking past the man he pretended to be into who he really was. "They are your friends. They will forgive you." Nico scoffed.

"Forgive me?" he echoed. "No, Ariadne, they won't forgive me. When they find out what I've done, how I've lied to them, the secrets I've kept...Percy alone will want blood." Nico shook his head. "If I ever return to America, then it will be as a loner again. I don't want that. But I don't want to stay here, either."

Ariadne placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Go, Nico. Your friends need your help. Go and be the hero you were born to be."

There were tears in his eyes. He didn't want to leave her. "When we find the Doors of Death, and close them, then you, and Hazel...you'll go back to being dead." Ariadne smiled weakly.

"Then it is what the Fates decree," she told him. "No one can live forever Nico, only the gods. And I am no god. Neither is your sister. She understands. We all do. But...can you take me with you? To see America? I want to see planes, and guns, and..." Nico threw his head back and laughed, grasping both her shoulders and grinning like a madman.

As long as she was with him, he could do anything. "Okay, you've got a deal. Land of the Brave and certain death for Nico di Angelo, here we come."

And he shadow traveled.


	10. Chapter 10

**Please, please, please review. Seriously, there is a reason I'm using this site, and its not for the heck of it. I want honest critisism, because I'm not getting it anywhere else.**

**C****hapter Nine: Escape**

Percy snuck out of the praetor's quarters, careful not to make a sound. He knew Reyna would let him go if she caught him, but she would have to sound an alarm. That would seriously spoil his fun.

He didn't know if he was going to let Luke live. He still had a lot of resentment and anger left over from the Titan War, and Luke was a logical scapegoat. But if he was right about Octavian and Luke had valuable information about the war with Gaea, then killing him would be a bad idea. So Percy resolved to see for himself.

He knew where Luke was being kept. He deliberately specified to the guys carrying him away where he be held, for this exact reason. When Octavian started talking, Percy immediately knew whose side he was really on. He had begun to formulate this plan in his head even then. A tear welled in his eye when he thought of how proud Annabeth would be of him.

Reyna did not sleep in the _praetoria_, as he had initially suspected. So his next action should have been easy. Work his way over to it, ease the door open, go downstairs, grill Luke for information, and, if appropriate, bust him out. Percy wasn't exactly well-versed in jailbreaks, but he remembered helping Briares, the Hundred-Handed-One, out of Alcatraz, and he figured if he could do that, he could so anything. Of course, in Alcatraz he had help, a Cyclops help to be precise, but now...no. This was going to work. He was sure of it.

One hundred percent sure.

The little voice in his head spoke up at the point, questioning his certainty. _But if someone sees you..._

Sixty-percent sure it was going to work.

_Do you really think Octavian's that stupid? He has eyes everywhere._

Fifty percent sure that this most definitely was going to work.

_You know that's contradictory, right?_

Almost twenty percent sure it was going to work.

Stupid inner reason.

Percy had never counted himself on stealth, but he was doing a pretty good job. He easily snuck past the wasted Dakota keeping watch in front of the _praetoria_; (courtesy of Reyna, no doubt) made it to the door without so much as a sound, and jingled the handle.

Wait, jingled the handle? The door was locked! So much for almost twenty percent sure of success. Now it was more like, "If this works I'm going to be completely shocked and _still _not be able to do anything!"

Percy resisted the urge to curse in Ancient Greek and instead kept his long sting of insults to Octavian and locked doors in his head. He glanced back at the snoring Dakota in relief. There was still a slim chance that this could work. He searched all over the place for a key. This thing had to be opened somehow, right?

In and amidst his desperate, fevered searching, he broke a flower pot. Dakota shot to his feet, spear at the ready when he saw Percy. "Oh, praetor, uh...what are you doing here?" Percy thought quickly. If there was one thing he was good at, it was thinking on his feet.

He shook his head and sighed. "You won't believe it, and don't tell Reyna I told you this, but she left Aurum inside. I can't believe you don't hear him howling." Dakota's jaw dropped open. Percy felt a little guilty lying to the poor guy, but he didn't have much of a choice. Dakota had moved for Luke's death.

Dakota listened intently and then frowned. "I don't hear him at all." He said uncertainly. Percy rolled his eyes.

"Then you're deaf." He told him. "Or drunk," he added, glancing at the Kool-Aid flask in his hand. Dakota quickly hid it behind his back and smiled weakly. "Look, do you have the key?" Dakota's eyes widened.

"Oh no, sorry, Percy, but..."

"Dakota, Reyna is going to kill me if I don't get this dog. And if she goes after me, I'm going to tell her _you're _the one who stopped me. However dead I am, how much worse do you think it will be for you?" Dakota's resolve wavered. "Just give me the key. I'll be in and out before you know it. Don't worry,"

Dakota sighed and pulled out the keys from his back pocket. "Be quick. If Octavian find out..."

"My lips are sealed," he said quickly, dashing inside. Once the door was closed, he locked it firmly. When Dakota realized what he'd done, he started banging on the door and screaming. Percy had to move.

He was down in the cellar where Luke was being kept inside of a second. The son of Hermes looked up, clearly shocked. "What the...I thought I had until the afternoon."

"No," Percy told him. "I'm getting you out. But if you don't tell me everything _now_, we're both going to die. Got it?"

Luke jumped up and grabbed the bars. "They're capturing half-bloods and forcing them to work on Mount Othrys. They keep up shifts, changing up who holds the sky, and when they're off duty, they have to work on rebuilding the Titan stronghold. I only just managed to get out."

Percy's eyes widened when it dawned on him what he was saying. "Atlas," he breathed. He shook his head. "How do I know I can believe you?" he demanded.

"I swear on the Styx, Percy. Everything I'm telling you is true. I'm on your side!" He heard the door break down and legionaries pour in. He swore.

"Okay, look, I'm killing all ties I have to Camp Jupiter at this point for you, so if I find out you're somehow playing me, I will kill you, got it?" Luke nodded hastily. "Now stand back."

Luke did as he was told, but he looked apprehensive. "What are you going to...?" He was cut off the roar of a wave as it slammed into the bars with the force of the sea. The steel didn't stand a chance. Metal flew everywhere, and Luke ducked as he was doused from head to toe.

When it was done, Luke stared at Percy, who was panting heavily and on his knees. "The last time I used that much power," Percy gasped. "I was out for a week." Luke didn't seem to like that knowledge. He ran out of his cell and helped Percy to his feet. He whirled around just as armed demigods rushed in, weapons drawn and ready.

"What do we do?" he asked quickly. Percy wasn't sure why he was asking him. Percy felt ready to die.

Percy lifted his head and looked at him seriously, groggily trying to figure out what to say. He decided to follow Nico's example. "I don't know...run?" Luke stared at him, like, _duh!_ But Percy didn't care. He looked at the Romans and said, "Demigods are being held captive on Mount Othrys. You have to let us save them." As he expected, the Romans didn't budge. "What would Jason have done?"

That did it. They made an isle just big enough for them to squeeze through, but at least half of them had tried to vote for Luke's life. The others wouldn't be so lenient.

Percy swung his arm back off Luke, who stared at him in shock. "I can make it to the river. Once we're there, we're home clear." Luke nodded and started sprinting like the hounds of hell were fast on his heels. Percy wasn't far behind.

Several people tried to stop them, but Percy drew Riptide and knocked out Jerry, a supporter of Octavian. He threw his gladius at Luke, who caught it, spinning around and taking out his attacker's legs with the flat of the blade. Luke bounced the sword in his hand and frowned at the unfamiliar design, then shrugged and sidestepped an oncoming swing.

Percy moved like wildfire, even though he was thoroughly exhausted. That stunt with the wave had come from him, not the outside. It had required an immense amount of energy, and it left Percy drained. Even with the boast he knew the Tiber would give him, he wasn't sure he could get very far from Camp Jupiter before hitting the dirt.

He slammed the butt of Riptide into the helm of a charging veteran from New Rome and winced when he heard the crunch of the metal under the assault. He grimaced at the woman, unconscious on the ground. "Sorry," he muttered, leaping over her and charging toward the Little Tiber.

Once they were close enough, Percy let lose a giant wave, which threw all their pursuers onto their rumps. Luke sloshed across to the other side, and Percy was about to follow his lead when Frank and Hazel materialized at his side.

He looked at them with remorse. He was starting to remember the explosion and how badly he'd been treating them. He hated himself for running, but he had no choice. Olympus was counting on him to stop Atlas...again. "Guys..."

"Percy, come on!" Luke yelled from across the river, already running toward the Tunnel, waving his sword overhead in a gesture that Percy should follow.

"I'm sorry about everything. The way I've been treating you, almost killing myself, running...I hate all of this. None of it is right. But I have to do it. You get it, don't you? I have to go to Mount Othrys, for everyone's sakes."

They exchanged looks, and Frank stepped forward, placing a hand on Percy's shoulder. "We forgive you, man." he told him, and they nodded at each other, and then embraced. Hazel ran up and threw her arms around Percy's neck. Percy crouched down a little so he could bury his head in her hair.

"Stay alive," she muttered in his ear, and he resisted the urge to sob. "And, if you can...find Nico for me?" Percy nodded.

"I'll try my hardest," he promised, and Hazel pulled away, tears trailing down her cheeks.

"We'll buy you some time, but you have to get moving. There isn't much time to waste." Hazel sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "Go," she whispered. "GO!"

Percy couldn't believe what his friends were risking for him. Possibly their lives. He could only hope Reyna still had enough pull at Camp to spare them, but he couldn't be sure. Octavian's power was like a vice grip. They were all too afraid to speak against him. But if anyone could do it, it was Reyna.

It occurred to him that he was losing his _second _family, not long after the first. And it ripped his heart out when it occurred to him that he might never be able to return. That he could never see Hazel or Frank again. Never play War Games and bust the heads of the First Cohort again. Never have long drawn out shouting matches with Octavian. And it ripped his heart out to think that on the off-chance Annabeth was still alive, she'd never be able to find him.

But he had to do it. For Olympus, for the imprisoned demigods, and for Camp Jupiter. He would carry the mantle of Greek with him into the grave. Even if Camp Half-Blood was lost, which something told him it was, he would never let the memory of Greece die. He would preserve it. "Goodbye," he whispered to Hazel and Frank. "Goodbye," he said to Camp Jupiter. His old life was, once and for all, lost.

He ran across the river and to a new life, tears stinging his eyes as he left everything he knew behind.

* * *

Bianca swore when the block landed on her foot.

Her swore, calloused, blistered fingers cried out in agony and the heavy rock slipped past them, landing all fifty-plus pounds on her already sore feet. She screamed, falling to one knee, tears streaming down her face from the pain. Immediately, an empousa hauled her up and shoved three ambrosia squares in her hands. Bianca hissed at the sting, and gingerly pressed the first square past her lips, waited for her body's reaction, and then ate the second. Eating the third would be too dangerous, so she just feigned chewing and hid it in her back pocket. The empousa didn't catch the trick and walked away, muttering about incompetent half-bloods under her breath. Bianca shot her a death glare before heaving the block again and staggering toward the half-erected palace.

It was gray and black, swirling clouds hiding it from view until you were right on top of it. It wasn't finished, but in very little time it would be. With the some hundreds of demigods enslaved to work on it day and night, it wouldn't be long before it was completely built, and then...Bianca shuddered to think what would happen when Atlas had his palace.

Her grip slipped again on the rock, but she struggled against it and managed to throw it on top of the already accumulated pile of organically shaped blocks. She shot a sympathetic look at Michael, who lifted it and carried it to the building as soon as Bianca deposited it. There was a nasty gash across his face, and his whip burns hadn't healed yet. Bianca glanced over her shoulder and handed him the single square of ambrosia. He looked at her with wordless gratitude and hastily shoved it in his mouth, chewing quickly. Then he lifted the rock and lumbered away.

The familiar sound of a snapping whip drew Bianca's attention. A beautiful girl with black hair called out and fell on her hands and knees, the leather sinking into her flesh. Her body writhed and thrashed in the night, like she was trying to free herself from some invisible force, but she could never make it more than three feet before being shoved back and whipped even harder for her efforts. Bianca winced when the whip wrapped around her arm and was abruptly yanked back. The damage to the flesh had to be hideous.

"Punishment," someone muttered bitterly behind her. She turned and saw an African American boy with a hammer in one hand and a wilted flower in the other. "She helped one of the prisoners escape, and now they're going to torture her until she pledges loyalty to their cause."

Bianca felt uneasy around the boy. She felt like she should know him. "Have we met before?" she asked hesitantly. He laughed.

"Depends," he muttered. "Have you ever been to Camp Half-Blood?" She thought about it and shrugged. The name sounded familiar. "You could have met me there. I'm Beckondorf, son of Hephaestus." He held out a rough, calloused hand and Bianca shook it somberly.

A whip bit into her calf and she screamed. The whip flew out to hit her again, but Beckondorf's beefy arm lashed around to intercept it. He yanked it from the grip of the assaulting Cyclops, who stumbled. "Go back to Tartarus!" he yelled angrily, and the brute lumbered back to his station to get another whip.

Beckondorf tossed his weapon aside like he didn't care about it. "Keep it," Bianca said quickly, alarmed at his surrender of a perfectly good tool. Beckondorf just chuckled.

"What good would it do?" he asked weakly. "No one gets out of here."

Bianca looked back to the girl being whipped. Beckondorf sighed. "They'll catch him eventually. They know where he's going." Bianca turned in alarm and horror. "He's running to warn Camp about this place, but he'll get there too late. This is the other side of the country, after all."

Bianca couldn't help but feel a little hopeful. Maybe, just maybe, this escaped demigod could be their salvation. It was a lot to hope for, but it was the only thing Bianca had left to hold on to. Except for the memory of her little brother. "Do you know any di Angelos?" she asked suddenly, driven to find out more about her family. The boy looked alarmed.

"Yeah," he said. "One. Never met him though." He told her. He heart leapt in her chest. She waited, even when the Cyclops returned with another whip and scarred her back. "He's at Camp Half-Blood."

Pure joy flew from her mouth; relief that at least her brother was safe. Then a monster came over to collect her, clearly angered by her determined refusal to follow the rules. She wrestled with him, rejuvenated by the knowledge that at least one member of her family was alive and well. Beckondorf tried to help her, but she knew she couldn't escape. She didn't need to.

Something in her heart told her help was on the way.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry about the typo last time with the chapter number. I lost count and forgot to fix it. This one is going to be long, don't worry. I should be able to make up for the shorter bits before this.**

**Chapter Eleven: Accident**

Camp Half-Blood wasn't the same without Percy.

Connor Stoll was the most notorious prankster in the history of Camp Half-Blood. Before his younger brother, Travis, left on the _Argo II_, the brothers had wreaked havoc on the strawberry fields and cabins, egging them for a more traditional day, and coming out with some really creative ways to trick and scheme.

But now, Connor didn't prank anyone. Sometimes, his siblings would try to get him to help them with a particularly lame prank, just to get him to come up with one of his own ingenious ones, but he never took the bait. It wasn't in him anymore. It wasn't in anyone anymore.

Without Percy, everyone moved sluggishly, like it was hard just to go on with their lives. And that was exactly it. Without the savior of Olympus, no one had any energy. No one had any desire to keep hacking at dummies or firing off arrows. There hadn't been an interesting Capture the Flag game since the day Percy disappeared. The canoe races were eventless without the son of Poseidon. Chariot races held no real accomplishment in victory.

Everyone just moseyed along their day-to-day routines, never invested in a single thing they did. Everyone had the same dark fear: _What if he's dead?_

No one wanted to be the first to admit that something had gone wrong with the ship. Leo had assured them along that it would easily make it to Camp Jupiter and return in Camp Half-Blood in less than a week. It had already been three. Everybody knew they weren't coming back.

And that was what killed the fun the most for Connor. The knowledge that not only was Percy Jackson unreachable, but his brother was probably dead. All twenty-five campers were. Connor hated himself for staying put like Travis had insisted he do. "One of us has to stay here to run the Hermes cabin. Watch Sam for me, okay?"

Sam was the black-haired twelve-year-old at Camp Half-Blood who hadn't been claimed yet. She gotten there three days before the _Argo _took off, guided across by a satyr, and was spunky as all get out. Thalia, daughter of Zeus, had taken an immediate liking to her. It wasn't long before his brother followed suit.

Every undetermined camper stayed in the Hermes cabin until their real godly parent decided to step up to the plate. Ever since Percy made the gods swear to claim their children when they turned sixteen, they'd been kind of delaying the inevitable. So until Sam turned thirteen, she'd be stuck with Connor. She didn't seem to mind though. She always looked like she enjoyed the Hermes cabin.

She was the only undetermined at Camp at that moment, and she dragged her feet a little because of it. But she still gave Ares kids a run for their money with a knife. She was like lightning with that thing, weaving in and out of their defenses as fast as a cheetah. She actually cut off all the harnesses and straps to an Ares kid's armor, making it fall to the ground. That had gotten an impressive round of applause, which she happily received.

She was always hanging out by the water, throwing rocks onto the waves. The weird thing was that it didn't matter what shape the rock was, flat or not, it always skipped. It was neat to watch the master at work.

And Sam had an affinity for horses. Every time she stepped foot in the stables, the horses went ballistic, neighing and calling out for her to pet them or ride them. She'd already ridden a very demanding Pegasus named Blackjack, who simply would not let her go without riding him. Afterwards, she landed outside the Hermes cabin, smiling contently. When Connor asked her how it went, she beamed at him and said, "Ask the horse."

He still didn't know what she'd meant.

Connor kicked a stone in his path while he walked around Camp Half-Blood. His hands were tucked in his jean pockets, and he sulked. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was never going to see his brother again. After everything they'd gone through, that ripped his heart out.

Connor wasn't paying any attention while he was walking. He was more concerned with what had happened to his brother than to realize he was currently walking along the archery range while arrows whistled past his head.

He didn't realize what he was doing until he was dead center and an arrow nearly took off his head. "Connor!" someone screamed. But it was too late.

The arrow whistled through the air and stopped in Connor's chest. Directly in between his ribs, blood gushed. Connor gasped as the arrow sunk into his flesh, and it was his last breath.

He felt all the strength in his body pour out in a rush and collapsed into the grass. He lay in a pool of his own blood, struggling to breathe. An Apollo camper rushed to his side. Connor couldn't breathe. He tried, but then he coughed up blood. He recognized the Apollo kid as Will Solace, the same one who warned him before the arrow met its mark.

"Will," someone asked hesitantly. The son of Apollo shook his head sadly. "It punctured his lung. Get me ambrosia immediately." But looking into his eyes, Connor realized he was going to die. "What were you thinking?" Will demanded quickly, pressing down on the wound to stem the flow of blood. Connor gasped again. "You didn't even look like you were paying attention."

"Travis," Connor gurgled. He realized he was choking on his own blood. "Help...Sam. Stop...Gaea. Tell Travis...sorry."

"Stop talking that way," a female voice said softly on the other side of him. "You don't know what you're saying. You're going to be fine. Isn't he, Will?" Will didn't answer. "Will?"

There was a lot a talking, and a scream. Connor heard the clip-clopping of hooves, and the strangled yelp of Chiron filled his ears. Chiron bent down on his front legs and focused on Connor's eyes. The centaur looked so sad, like he was reliving some horrible part of his life.

"Travis...sorry..." he muttered one last time. Chiron bowed his head and took Connor's cold, clammy hand in his.

"I'll tell him, Connor. I promise I'll tell him." And Connor's eyelids flickered, then the white froze on the sky, and Connor was gone.

* * *

Luke didn't know what to think anymore.

After Percy had sentenced him to certain death, cuffed his hands and stuck him in a cell, he then promptly saved his life. It didn't make any sense. Luke hadn't really known what to expect when he saw everyone again. He was pretty sure Annabeth would accept him after a little reluctance, mostly because he was supposed to be dead. And Percy...that had been harder to gage. Percy had forgiven him in the end, surrendered the knife knowing Luke would end it once and for all. But after everything the son of Hermes had done, he knew Percy had never really given him amnesty in his mind.

But this was something completely out of what Luke had anticipated. Not only did Percy not give him forgiveness, he immediately ordered his arrest. Then, that night, he risked everything, gave up everything just to save him. There was no logic to his actions, except maybe in the motives.

Now, Luke was determined to prove to Percy he hadn't made a mistake in freeing him. He didn't kill any of his attackers, even though he could easily have done so, even as tired as he was. Their moves and footwork were far more stiff, their jabs straight instead of feints. It wasn't hard to defeat them.

And their armor. The strange, rectangular shields. It was nothing like what he seen other demigods fight with. He recognized the marks on their left forearms, the letters S.P.Q.R, and had a flashback to a discussion with Annabeth years ago, before Luke had ever gone on his quest and turned bitter; the abbreviation for Rome. Senatus Populesque Roma, "The Senate and the People of Rome." Why demigods would have that etched into their skin made no sense to Luke. It was a question to ask Percy later. They clearly respected him.

Luke, remarkably, had been the first to cross the river and reach the tunnel. It wasn't all that surprising, considering he saw how much Percy stumbled while running for safety. He was surprised he wasn't already dead, but of course, that could probably be contributed to his Curse of Achilles.

But then, Percy surprised him even more. He stopped to talk to two demigods, neither wearing armor but both armed. The boy had a bow-sure sign of a son of Apollo-and the girl a long sword sheath at her side. Both of them looked solemn when talking to the son of Poseidon. The even stranger part was that Percy made no move to suggest they were dangerous. "Percy, come on!" Luke called out to him, and Percy glanced over his shoulder. Luke could have sworn he saw tears in his eyes. The archer took a step forward, squeezed his shoulder and they hugged each other. Then the girl flung herself at him, and they continued to hug for a little longer than Luke would have liked. Finally, they broke apart, shared a few parting words, and Percy ran across the river, straight toward Luke.

Luke held the door open for him, and Percy ran straight through. Luke was only seconds behind, slamming the door and using a metal pipe to keep it blocked, at least for a few minutes. On the other side, he could hear screaming and the clanging of metal and figured the Percy's friends were trying to give them time.

He didn't have time to be thankful. He just ran after Percy, feet kicking up tile and gathered dirt in his wake. It was a musty hallway, with mosaic tiles and a Roman interior just like the pictures Annabeth always showed him from her books. She had always been especially fascinated in Roman architecture.

Percy didn't seem phased in the least by the carvings and tiling around him. He charged forward with a look of such determination it gave Luke a start. He imagined that would be the expression on his father's face in times of distress or anger. Percy's green eyes looked so much like a sea at storm Luke felt the overwhelming urge to scream "Hurricane!"

But Luke held his tongue and kept running forward without stopping to admire his surroundings. The tunnel started to morph, from Roman to maintenance tunnel. Wires and other things you'd expect an electrician to need to fix a giant interstate tunnel. The door came into view at the very end, and they doubled their speed.

Together, they burst through into the night air, stopping traffic dead. The screeching of tires against asphalt filled Luke's ears, as well as a string of creative curses from the drivers. Cars swerved to avoid hitting them, getting t-boned. Commuters abandoned their cars when they ignited, and there was a huge outpour of people running from the street.

Luke winced guiltily and slowed for a moment. Percy stopped dead in his tracks and rushed over to a sedan with a mother and baby inside. He worked futilely on the door, but it wouldn't open. "Percy, we don't have time!" Luke screamed, but Percy ignored him. He curled fingers through the door to the other side and pulled.

The metal screeched as it was gradually separated from its hinges, and Luke doubled over as the horrible sound filled his ears. He screamed at Percy to knock it off, dully realizing Percy was demonstrating some superhuman strength. It was a capability Luke had always thought reserved for children of Zeus, but here was a son of Poseidon, ripped off a car door from its hinges. Luke didn't admire his work, though. He was too busy squeezing his eyes shut and flattened his palms against his ears to care.

Finally, he heard the noise came to a final, screeching end and looked up to see Percy dragging the unconscious female driver out of the car. She was dead weight in his arms, her driver side crushed by a smoking truck. Her golden head of hair was caked with blood from her lacerated scalp, and her arm was twisted around at an awkward angle.

Percy dragged her away from the demolished vehicle, and she groaned. "Emily," She started flailing around weakly, fighting with Percy and trying to get back to the car. "Emily!" she screamed desperately, still unconscious.

"Luke!" Percy cried, trying to hold her down. But the woman was determined. Luke ran to his side and collapsed onto his knees, holding the woman's shoulders while Percy held her head down. "Who's Emily?" Percy asked quickly, having to scream over the horns and alarms and screaming all around them. "Who's Emily?"

Someone gurgled.

Luke looked up and around, then fixated his eyes on the backseat of the car, where a baby looked perfectly safe and curious, grasping at nothing. Luke shot to his feet and jumped over the woman, intending to get the infant to safety, but before he could, a blast of heat seared off his eyebrows and he was thrown backward.

The truck that had t-boned the car burst into flames, enveloping the surrounding vehicles in a cloud of red and white. Luke stumbled back, shirt smoking, and watched in horror as the fire swallowed the green sedan and three other cars.

Luke listened for the sound of crying, and any sound that the child was still alive, but the roar of the flames drowned out everything else. "Percy!" Luke cried over his shoulder.

"Can't it wait?" Percy screamed at him, barely audible over the fire. "She's in bad shape!"

"The baby's worse!" Luke countered, and Percy was on his feet in three seconds, running straight into the fire. Luke's eyes widened. "Are you cra...?" Percy disappeared in the red and the white, hidden from view. Luke didn't know what to think; aside from _He's completely nuts._Just then, Percy reappeared, slightly crispy baby girl in his arms. And he was running.

"Get down!" He yelled, and Luke barely had enough time to register that the car was still running, and that the fire had reached the engine, and...

BOOM!

Luke was thrown into the air, momentarily weightless, before he fell back to earth with a jarring thud. After having the wind knocked out of him, Luke struggled to his feet and saw that Percy had taken refuge behind the engine block of a semi. Green eyes found his, and the look of amusement Luke saw in them made him want to rip Percy's throat out, baby or no.

The mother stirred and screamed when she saw what was left of her car. "Emily!" she wailed as shrilly as the baby. Just in time, the infant gurgled. It wasn't old enough to speak, but Luke knew what the kid was thinking; _Fire cool._

Percy handed over the child, and her mother cradled her head gingerly in her arms. She looked up to thank Percy, but he was already gone, opening the door of a relatively unaffected car and turning the ignition switch. "Get in!" Percy called out the passenger door. Luke heard sirens getting closer, and he knew the required explanations would be impossible to give. "We've got to get out of here!"

Without any more indecision, Luke jumped into the car and shut the door just as Percy sped off toward of the tunnel, barely giving him enough time to buckle up before he revved it and floored the gas.

Percy never let the speedometer dip below seventy miles per hour for a fair part of the tunnel, weaving in and out of cars like a pro, never once so much as grazing another commuter. He kept glanced up at the rear-view mirror like he was afraid they were being followed, but after the speedy getaway back at the entrance, Luke was almost positive they had lost any possible trails.

Of course, they knew where Luke had been headed. Camp Half-Blood was the obvious destination, but after experiencing the horror of Mount Tamaulipas, he was willing to take whatever he could get. He could only count his lucky stars that he got a son of Poseidon who hadn't been as bent on vengeance had initially expected.

Percy's eyes never left the road, except maybe to check the mirrors or shoot a worried look at a particular car. When he exited onto the freeway, he slowed down, but if anything, became more paranoid. He was shooting accusatory glances everywhere, stopping short of every car pulling in front of him a little sharply. And Luke was pretty sure Percy was deathly afraid of potholes, because every time he saw one, he swerved to avoid it, nearly causing an accident. Luckily for other drivers, there were only a grand total of three.

Luke wasn't used to seeing Percy like a hunted animal. Most of the time, at least from what he'd known him as, Percy exerted an air of confidence, even though he wasn't entirely sure of himself. But his reactions weren't fueled by self-doubt. They were fueled by fear.

Finally, Luke couldn't stand it anymore. "What the heck is going on with you? You look like a deer with a lion after it." Percy shot him a dark glare and switched on the turn signal, gliding easily into the left lane and out from behind a giant semi.

Percy was quiet for a while, and Luke figured his question wasn't going to get answered. "Gazelle," he said suddenly, causing Luke to jump high enough that he hit his head against the top of the car. He swore and rubbed his forehead free of the headache threatening to make a debut.

"What?" Luke demanded, staring at Percy like he'd just dropped out of the sky.

"It's gazelle. Annabeth told me that once." Luke couldn't but feel a surge of jealously when Percy mentioned Annabeth's name. "And you don't need to know."

Luke crossed his arms and stared at Percy. "Maybe, maybe not. But I want to." No response. So Luke tried a different method. "Speaking of Annabeth, when's the last time you talked to her?"

There was a look of pain that flashed across Percy's face and Luke guessed there had been a fight. "Eight months ago,"

Luke's jaw dropped and he resisted the urge to fling himself at Percy in anger. He left Annabeth in his care, and what did he do? Abandon her for _eight months_. "Eight months!" Luke shouted. Percy winced at his voice. "What the heck did you two argue over?"

Percy's right arm darted out to push Luke back in his seat before he pulled into a truck stop and parked. Then he turned to face him. "We didn't fight." Luke laughed.

"Sure." He said skeptically. "You break of contact for almost a year because your relationship was going perfectly." He scoffed, and Percy's fist connected with his jaw. Luke felt a tooth fall out and spit it on the floor.

"Hera kidnapped me!" Percy screamed, veins bulging in his eyes. "I barely remembered my own name! I tried to find her, but Hera kept blocking me. I had to go on a stupid quest to rescue the god of death, and then what? A flying ship with her on it shows up, but do we get to talk? No! Because it blows up in midair!"

Luke was flat against his door, leaning as far away from the hysterical Percy Jackson as possible. Then the implications of his words hit Luke, and he gasped. "She's dead?"

"Yeah," Percy spat. "She's dead. And so is any other number of campers I probably can't remember." Luke couldn't ignore the pain in his voice.

"That place back there...what was it?" Percy sat back in his seat and closed his eyes, tiny tears trailing down his cheeks. For a long moment, he said nothing, and Luke assumed he wasn't going to answer.

"Camp Jupiter," he said suddenly, surprising Luke. Percy turned his head to face Luke, and there was a determined expression in those green eyes. Percy was desperately trying not to show weakness. "It's like out camp, except a sanctuary for Roman demigods." Luke choked, even though he hadn't been eating anything.

"Roman demigods?" he echoed, staring at the son of Poseidon. Percy just nodded. "But how...I mean..."

"Rome lasted just as long as or longer than Greece, Luke. Our traditions weren't just similar, they were identical. The gods spent so much time over that empire that the adaptation they'd naturally done with the culture became a split side of their personalities."

Luke still couldn't process what he was being told. "Are you telling me my dad has MPD?" Percy laughed, but it was strained and obviously faked.

"Something like that," then his expression sobered up. "Hera's trying to unite us." Luke could tell Percy was trying to explain something to him, but he didn't understand what. Until he realized who "us" was.

"Wait," he said, holding up a hand. "Hera wants Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter to work _together?_" Percy sighed his affirmative. Luke roared with laughed at the ignorance of the Queen Goddess. "That's ludicrous! Romans and Greeks have been sworn enemies ever since Troy! She can't honestly expect us to..."

"She did. She does. And she's right." Luke's eyes widened when it finally occurred to him what Percy had been doing at Camp Jupiter.

"You said she kidnapped you. Did she...?"

"Erase my memory and send me on a life-threatening quest to save the world? Yes." Luke looked away, staring at the restaurant in front of him just a semi pulled into the drive. "I wasn't the only one, either. Jason Grace, the Roman praetor before me, was also abducted and jumped over to Camp Half-Blood. The ship Annabeth was on had been full of delegates from our camp to negotiate an alliance, but something went wrong and it exploded. There's no way of knowing how many were onboard, although I'm guessing at least four."

Luke no longer hated Percy for abandoning Annabeth. He hated Hera for being a manipulative tyrant and causing this whole mess. "Why even do this? Does she already know about Mount Tam?" Percy pursed his lips like he wasn't sure.

"I don't know about Mount Tam. But she did it so we could defeat Gaea." Percy seriously had to stop surprising Luke like that.

"Gaea? As in the Mother Earth from Greek mythology that gave Kronos the scythe that started this whole mess? You're joking." Percy shook his head and bowed his head.

"She's resurrecting her children." Luke gasped. "The giants, Luke. Not the Titans." He sighed in relief, then remembered Atlas and groaned. "She wants revenge for Kronos, and she's enacting it on both camps." Luke raised an eyebrow.

"Why Camp Jupiter? They didn't do anything during the war."

"They brought Mount Othrys down, Luke. If it wasn't for them, we wouldn't have won." Luke shook his head to clear it, but it didn't work.

One thing was certain, though. Luke not only had to save the prisoners on Mount Othrys. He had to help save the world from the world.

Didn't he have his work cut out for him?


	12. HalfBlood Quip 1

**Okay, so here's the explanation behind this one. Seeming the story is heavy and dark and not very funny, I've decided I'm going to put these "Half-Blood Quips" sporadically throughout it. Hopefully, they'll make you laugh and lighten the mood for a few chapters. After a few of these, I'd like you guys to tell me how long they keep you smiling so I can order them appropriately. This is the first one. **

**I hope you like it.**

Property of Annabeth Chase

Foreword:

This is my personal property. Anyone who violates my constitutional right as an American citizen and armed woman to own a diary of PERSONAL thoughts will regret it. In other words, if you have read this, you have overstepped your bounds. Put this down now and I will not cause you permanent harm. Fail to do so...well, ever heard of Thomas Stine?

Exactly.

December 14, 2009

Is it too Aphrodite-like to describe the events of my date with Percy in vivid detail?

Answer: Yes

Okay, okay, I get it. But seriously, since when did Seaweed Brain get so romantic? Granted, it was all incredibly cliché, but still. I wasn't aware he knew the concept of a moonlit walk even existed, let alone that he was capable of pulling one off without stumbling over himself in embarrassment. I literally felt like I was walking through a dream, and the whole "perfect water fountain in the middle of the ocean" thing was just cheating. It was cool, but it was cheating.

We didn't even eat a picnic or anything and I felt my heart melting into my toes. It really doesn't make any sense how I could have fallen for Percy. After all, our parents are kind of arch nemeses. I suppose it must have been his smile. No, his laugh. Or maybe those deep, sensitive green eyes. Nah, it was a combination of it all. I don't fall for guys because they look good, although the occasional sigh is not off-limits. Percy is just a little bit of everything I find attractive in a man. He's brave, funny, good-looking, intelligent, (to an extent) nimble, athletic...everything I could possibly want. And now that we're not fighting a war with the Titans, we can actually pursue a relationship. This is the good life.

I can't describe our kiss. We stole one or two throughout the date, but it wasn't nearly as intense or sensual as that last goodnight one. That was another turn-on. Percy was a great kisser. I mean, really knock you off your feet _good_. That's a bit of the reason why I was so jealous of Rachel. I found out he kissed her one time and nearly ripped that redheaded siren's head off her shoulders, but then I told myself "Annabeth, what would your mother say." That calmed me down. The only thing I want less than some Oracle of Delphi stealing my boyfriend and my mother turning him into overdone seaweed because I'm acting irrational over him.

But what really hit me for our date was what he said just before closing his door. I'm not even sure he remembers what he said, he was so tired. But I remember. And I always will. After all, you don't hear the words "I love you, wise girl" every day, now do you?


	13. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve: A Plan**

Leo Valdez was wearing on her last nerve.

Felicia had always fancied herself an understanding and patient girl, willing to live and let live...mostly. But it was taking the highest level of her self-restraint not to throw herself at him and pummel him until he was broken and bloody.

Felicia was a very observant person, and she didn't stop paying attention to detail around the aggravating son of Hephaestus. For one thing, he had the worst timing in the world. Always breaking up and saying something when it was the least convenient. And he was always fidgeting. Felicia hated fidgeting. She had been diagnosed with ADHD, too, but that didn't make any sense to her. She could sit perfectly still in the middle of a city square and not even flinch. The only time she'd ever been antsy was in third grade, when she had homeroom with the demonic woman Ms. Catwal. She was horrible, with beady eyes and a mouth that always seemed to foam. She thought she'd hallucinated the time she attacked her in detention, because the next day the entire class was convinced she hadn't even gone to detention in her office. Now she knew better. Ms. Catwal had been a monster, she was sure of it.

Could her father really blame her for being fidgety the classroom of a monster?

And Leo drooled when he slept. He also snored like a tornado bearing down on Texas, loud enough Felicia sometimes mistook it for a jet flying overhead and woke him up to catch its attention. He had the worst jokes in the world, rarely tickling her funny bone out of anything more than pity.

But at the same time, Leo was sweet, charming, hilarious, and patient when it counted. He always listened when Felicia needed somebody to listen, helped when she wanted help, and stayed back when she didn't. The way his lip curled up when he slept was actually kind of cute, and his snoring wasn't that bad.

That was really what got to Felicia. It wasn't Leo's ongoing list of faults. It was his even longer list of positive attributes that made Felicia like him. More than once she'd been tempted to tell him the truth about her name, but she stubbornly remained mute. And that was another thing. Leo never asked her what her real name was. He always called her "Augusta" or "Aug" for short. And she was starting to like Aug.

Felicia was staring at the campfire, warming her bones, when wet running footsteps shocked her from her reverie. She turned and saw Leo running toward her. Her stomach growled contently, but she realized he was empty-handed.

Food was scarce in the cave, little vegetation actually grew on the slick rock walls, and the blizzard trapping Leo and Felicia inside had also chased away or killed all food. Luckily, both of them had minimal supplies-a few rations, a couple first aid bandages-and so far, that had kept them alive. But neither of them had packed expecting there to be a second person and about a week's blizzard. So it was necessary to at least look for food, and seeming it was harder for Leo to freeze, he was the logical candidate to try first.

But he had nothing in his hands. No fruits, or vegetables, or even blades of grass. Felicia's heart sank. They were going to starve.

But then Leo got closer and she saw a manic look in his eyes. Her heart leapt. He must have found something out there. That was when she spotted the rolled up piece of paper in his right. It was blue, with white lines all over it, and Leo was hanging onto that thing like it was his lifeline.

"Move," he ordered suddenly. Felicia was surprised by the urgency in his tone, but she hastily complied. Leo crouched down on one knee and spread all five or so feet of paper in front of the fire, studying it with a furrowed brow.

He retrieved two medium sized rocks and used them to keep the paper from rolling back up. He sent a small fireball at the wood, now only smoldering, and the fire roared back to life. Warmth washed over Felicia, and she groaned happily. Then her stomach growled again, and she scowled. What was so important about this paper, anyway? She didn't know about Leo, but Felicia was hungry.

She tried to get a good look at the paper and saw strange markings and equations scribbled all over in the margins. The center, however, held the real masterpiece and ingenuity of the thing. It featured a ship, like those Greek designs she's seen on movies and whatnot, long and slender with holes in the bottom for oars. Only instead of oars, there were cannons, all ready to fire. The sides looked like they were plated with something, diagramed next to it with an arrow pointing at the plates. It was heavily armored with slanted protection like a tank's. On the deck were even more weapons, like the mounted crossbows lining the sides or the two larger versions on crossbows-ballista, Felicia thought they were called-on either end of the ship. There were other weapons on it too, small, large, medium, and all deadly. To try it all together though, as if the design alone wasn't threatening enough, a dragon's head functioned as the mast, scouring the land with red eyes. Written sloppily in the margin was the word "Festus."

Leo's expression was unreadable. He stared at the paper in awe and shock, but Felicia couldn't tell if this blueprint was a good thing or not. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore. "What is that?" she blurted. Leo looked around and jumped when he saw her, like he'd only just realized she was there. An expansive grin spread across his face, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

"This," he began grandly; motioning at the blueprint like it was king of England. "-is my ticket to Greece." Felicia raised an eyebrow and sat back on her heels. Leo hadn't found something good. He'd just started hallucinating things.

"It's a piece of paper." She pointed out.

"Not just any piece of paper," he tsked, pointing at the thing scribbled on the top. "This is the blueprint for the Argo II. With this bad boy, not even Gaea can catch me." Felicia couldn't stop herself. She roared with laughter and started rolling around on the ground, hitting it repeatedly with her palm. Leo waited for several minutes, arms folded across his chest, while Felicia recovered. "Are you done?" he asked irritably.

She wheezed and managed to level out her breathing, every now and again a chuckle escaping. She pursed her lips and nodded, afraid talking would bring about another round of hysterics. "Thank you," Leo said stuffily. You'd like he was some kind of dignitary, not a stranded kid in the middle of nowhere. "Remember what I told you about me being incredibly awesome and undead?" Felicia nodded. "And the camps for demigods on opposite sides on the country?" Her nod was more doubtful this time. She didn't entirely believe that stuff about war camps and everything else. It all seemed a little far-fetched to her. "Well, I'm from Camp Half-Blood, in New York. This ship was supposed to take my friends and me to Camp Jupiter, which is the other camp."

Felicia was finding it really difficult not to laugh. "It's a drawing." She told him, like he was an idiot. Which he was.

Leo groaned. "It started out a drawing," he told her. "Then we built it." Felicia stared at him.

"If you already built it, then what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is the fact it blew up!" he shouted, surging to his feet. Felicia scampered back in alarm. "Somebody sabotaged it, and it exploded. With me on board!" He added angrily. Felicia gulped. She was willing to believe demigods and monsters existed. What she was not ready to believe was that Leo was some sort of zombie.

"Leo..." she started, a little afraid her partner was going kind of nuts.

He threw his hands in air and started pacing back and forth, fire flickering all over his body. Felicia reached toward him, but when he flared up like the sun, she took a step back, just to be safe. "I thought it was hopeless. I thought the blueprint had been lost on the ship, and there was no way we could rebuild it. But now I find this in the middle of a blizzard while looking for grass and it has to mean something."

Leo was rambling now, going on and on like he didn't even care if she was listening or not. He flung his arms around his head expressively, saying this and that while emphasizing his point with an arm swing or jab in the air.

Felicia wasn't sure how to react to Leo's ranting, but she was strongly tempted to seek shelter elsewhere. Leo didn't seem entirely mentally stable. "If I can rebuild it, we can sail for Greece, maybe in even less time if I can find Camp Jupiter. According to Jason, there's double the number of half-bloods there than at Camp Half-Blood. Not to mention, who knows how many children of Vulcan there are versus the number of Hephaestus kids..."

Leo trailed off, muttering under his breath while he planned and calculated. Meanwhile, Felicia started to think about the most efficient way to get the heck out of there. Leo continued pacing and motioning grandly with his arms, the occasional flame sparking up and dying again in the darkening cave. The fire was beginning to fade, and Felicia waited for Leo to relight it like he always did, but he seemed too absorbed in his mutterings to notice. So she grabbed two sticks on the ground and rubbed them together with a vengeance. It always worked in Hollywood.

After about fifteen minutes of Leo's unhelpful whispered commentary and Felicia's nonexistent fire, she threw the sticks into the dwindling coals and sighed in exasperation. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked heavenward; hoping some sort of divine intervention would stop the blizzard or at least make the fire a little warmer. No luck.

She groaned inwardly and looked at Leo. He didn't seem to be slowing down. When she tried to interpret what he was saying, all she heard was complex mathematical calculations and measurements she was never very good at understanding.

Suddenly, the cavern was illuminated by a bolt of lightning, shortly followed by a loud clap of thunder. Leo stopped and looked up at the mouth of the cave like he'd been shocked. His eyes strained against the wall of snow to discern the shape of a man, shadowed by the lack of lightning now flashing frequently. Felicia actually took it as a good sign. Snowfall and lightning typically weren't a cooperative thing. They could trek through a storm no problem; it was the blizzard that gave them the trouble.

Felicia was uneasy about the figure at the front of their cave. Leo didn't seem overly thrilled either. "Wait here," he ordered her, marching off toward the figure. The minute he reached the blizzard, he burst into flames, melting the snow before it ever came close to him.

"Leo!" Felicia called, trying to stop him, but he shrugged her off and continued off toward the shadow. The chill from outside was beginning to creep past the fire, freezing Felicia to the bone. The light died down until the darkness descended overhead, swiftly and suddenly.

Felicia looked back to the cave entrance, caught between a rock and a hard place. She could follow her warmth out into the frigid cold or do as she was told and hang tight until he came back. But instinct told her to follow him, and the chill racing up her spine made up her mind for her. Pulling the jacket tighter around her slender form, she pursued him despite the vicious cold winds beating against her mercilessly.

Leo wasn't far from the cave. He was in the middle of an argument with the figure, waving his arms about like before, only angrier, like something had irritated him. Felicia was too far away to hear him over the roar of the wind, so she crept closer, sticking to the shadows so she wasn't seen.

The figure was definitely a man, solidly built and tall, with what looked like a hammer clutched in his right hand. A flash of lightning illuminated his repulsive face, deformed and scarred, streaked with oil and grime. Felicia winced sympathetically, trying to imagine what it must have been like to live with a face like that.

She strained to hear over the wind and made out a good half of the conversation. "...try." Leo finished impatiently.

"The Ancient Laws...allow...can't do it." The man argued, like he was talking to a child. Most of the sentence was blocked out by the wind, but Felicia figured whatever Leo was asking, the man didn't want to do.

"Forget the Ancient...!" Leo cried, and Felicia inserted "laws" in the blank. "You're a god! Figure out a way!"

"It doesn't work..." The man's voice was overshadowed by the blizzard once again. "Believe me, if I had the choice..." This time Leo cut him off.

"I'm not listening!" Leo roared so loudly that even a vicious gust chilling Felicia past her jacket wasn't loud enough to drown him out. "My friends need...help! And if you won't let me help them, I don't know who..."

"You don't understand, son, Zeus..."

"You don't have the right to call me that!" Leo screamed shrilly and angrily, jabbing the man with his finger. "You haven't earned...right!"

"You are my son and I will call you as such!" Leo's father bellowed. "I will not be treated like a misbehaving child by my own..."

"Offspring?" Leo interrupted bitterly. "That's all I am to you, aren't I? Just the product of one of your numerous conquests."

"Most women spur me, boy." His father countered, his voice rising dangerously.

"Gee, _dad_, thanks for that family trait. Thanks to you I will never have a girlfriend." Felicia rolled her eyes, stepping as close as she dared. She didn't want to miss any part of the argument. "And what about the others? Are they alright? Did the parachutes work?"

The man was silent for a moment before answering. "They worked." But there was something in his voice that suggested there was more than what he was saying. Leo must have heard it too, because he prompted his father anxiously. He bowed his head and said something so low, even Leo couldn't hear.

"What?"

"Nyssa's gone!" His father cried so loudly it could never have been misunderstood. Leo staggered like he'd been hit. He didn't speak. "A gust of wind caught her parachute and she veered off course into the side of a cliff. She was killed instantly."

Felicia couldn't see Leo's face, but she didn't want to. She wondered if he'd dated Nyssa or something, but then remembered he said he'd never had a girlfriend. Still, didn't discount a crush.

She watched father and son face off wordlessly for a moment, but then the father spoke up. "I can get you out of this storm and closer to Camp Jupiter, but only to Berkley. The rest is up to you and the girl."

Leo started. "How do you know about Augusta?" he asked warily, voicing Felicia's thoughts for her.

"Her name isn't Augusta, son. It's Felicia." Felicia's mouth dropped open. How dare he tell people her name without her consent? Of course, she had been planning to tell Leo tonight, but...

"Watch it, Hephaestus." Leo warned. "She didn't want me to know her name."

"You should." Hephaestus told him. She recognized the name from the Greek myths. God of fire and forges. Explained Leo's fire ability. "You've made a dangerous friend, son. There have only been a handful like her throughout the ages, and none of them have followed the gods. You met one of her kind on your quest." Leo tensed.

He said something that was lost on the wind. "Yes." His father replied. Leo turned back to the cave and Felicia hastily hid behind a rock before Leo could see her. She caught a glance of his expression and found herself disheartened. "But...Medea was mortal. She wasn't a daughter of Hecate."

"But she was the niece of Circe, who was. Careful, boy. Women like that are easy to fall for, especially powerful ones like your catch." Hephaestus clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. Leo seemed too confused to object. He just stood there and looked back to the cave wistfully, like he was sorry about something. Then something dawned on Felicia. He was leaving her.

She felt anger begin to boil in her chest at the thought. First he saved her and gained her trust, then he disappears because of something his immortal dad said? It wasn't fair. All of the sudden, she didn't think being a demigod was cool. Especially seeming it sounded like her mother was some distrusted goddess who nobody liked. Wonderful. Could her luck get any worse?

She realized Leo's audience with his dad was over and the great God Hephaestus had left Leo alone in the middle of the blizzard. The storm slowed down and stopped, leaving nothing but the rapidly melting layer of snow on the ground as testament to the constant storm. Leo looked up and shook his head. It occurred to Felicia that his dad was trying to bribe him.

The coast was clear, and Leo could see the empty cave from where he stood. He froze and turned to the rock Felicia was hiding behind. "Aug?"

"You know my name now." She reminded him, stepping out from behind her cover. Leo looked disappointed. "So...at least I get to say goodbye. You weren't gonna give me that option before." Leo breathed deeply and stared at her hand, held out in farewell. He shook his head.

"My dad doesn't get make my calls for me. He never raised a hand when my mother died, and he didn't object when I was blown apart. So...yeah." Leo turned toward the rising sun and pursed his lips. He pointed in the opposite direction, toward the west, and said, "Come on. We've got a bunch of bloodthirsty Romans to socialize with."

Felicia didn't know what Leo was giving up, but she bet it was big. Especially judging by his reaction to Nyssa's death, whoever she was. Whatever the future held, Felicia guessed it had something to do with that blueprint clutched in Leo's hand.

She also figured she was going to find out exactly what it held pretty soon.

Rachel Elizabeth Dare was not a quitter. She didn't give up when things started heating up. She lived by "When the going gets tough, the tough get going," but it wasn't getting her anywhere good fast.

She was dying.

She didn't need to be a doctor or Hollywood movie hero to know when she was at the end of her rope. The fact of the matter was, she was no demigod, or hero, or even sidekick. She was somebody the big guns occasionally consulted before running off to fight a war. Because of the spirit of Delphi residing within her, she knew the roles the Oracle had played in Greece were minor at best. Emperors would drop by every now and again with questions, but the prophecies they received never benefitted them more than "Look out for something that kind of fits this incredibly vague description." Oracles never fought the wars.

She shouldn't have volunteered to go on this quest. It wasn't natural. Oracles didn't get in the thick of a fight. They held back and let the heroes do the monster killing while they hinted at deaths and other inevitabilities they might encounter along the way. Rachel was supposed to sit around her legs crossed like a good little servant girl while the demigods of the new age defeated Gaea, and she hadn't liked it. So she forced herself on them, made them take her along, insisted an Oracle was the best person to bring with on something like this. But she had made a grave error. She hadn't anticipated a physical and psychological struggle like this.

Green smoke did not bellow from her mouth or eyes, which was good. She wasn't acting Oracle-y at all, giving her something to work with. But she couldn't figure out where Camp Jupiter was anymore. She sensed it was nearby, but who was she to judge. She didn't have a drop of demigod blood in her. All she had were good eyes and a bad attitude. Otherwise, she was defenseless.

Rebecca's sly tongue had claimed the only thing Rachel really had: friends. It was the one thing she had counted on her whole life through, the only thing she respected. Not her father's money or the endless array of possessions she had at her fingertips. Friends were the most priceless thing she had, and now even that had been taken away from her. Taken from her just like her innocence was the day she met Percy Jackson in Hoover Dam three years ago.

How could she have known sneezing would have thrust her into a world of ghouls and goblins and monsters? She could never have predicted something as extraordinary as saving a son of Poseidon from the clutches of skeletal hitmen, or running across him again at school. How had her life spiraled so far out of control?

Rachel stumbled and collapsed onto the ground. Her throat was parched and raw, her lips so chapped they were nothing but open bloody cuts. Her left eye was swollen shut because she'd gotten into a fight with an unarmed dracaena and only just escaped. She strongly suspected that her left arm was also broken because she couldn't so much as flex it without extreme amounts of pain racing through her arm, which had just been triggered by her attempt to ease her fall by thrusting out her hands defensively. The pain was so intense she instantly blacked out, if only for a second. Then the little bit of will power she had left forced open her eyes and she struggled to her feet.

After collapsing eighteen or more times, Rachel couldn't do it anymore. She was at the end of her rope and ready to just let go. She let her head rest against the hard earth while sleep dragged at her still-open eyelid, lulling her into unconsciousness.

Then she heard footsteps. At least ten people getting closer to her gradually. The last ounce of strength she had left vacated her when she cried for help. It was all she could manage, a single, weak syllable, but it was enough. The footsteps quickened, drew closer and closer, thundering in her ears like an earthquake. The ground shook. She fought to breathe, to stay alive just a little longer.

She heard voices. At least a dozen all muddled together in a tired, irritable din. One man spoke above the rest. "It's Rachel." He told them. Jason. Rachel sighed in relief.

"Is she dead?" Another voice asked. Female. Rough. Impatient. It was Clarisse.

She felt someone heave her up into their. Jason again. She imagined him fixating his eyes on Clarisse in distaste. "Camp Jupiter's just in sight, Clarisse. She better live that long."

And then Jason ran off. Rachel heard the other follow and finally let herself fall into silence, hoping that this was the salvation she was waiting for. Praying to whatever god was listening that this plan, whatever plan they had, was going to work and her troubles were over.


	14. Chapter 13

**Chapter Twelve has been fixed, revised, and overhauled. Crucial that new version is read before continuing in story.**

**Chapter Thirteen: Revenge**

Piper was done.

She couldn't handle the constant, fevered fights or unlivable living conditions. She couldn't take the hunger or the thirst, couldn't deal with the giant bolder sitting on her shoulder wherever she turned. She couldn't take any of it anymore. She wasn't cut out for this. She was tired of it all.

And if she saw one more friend die, she was going to lose her mind.

First it was Festus and his selfless sacrifice for the greater good. Then Leo gave his life so Annabeth could get off the Argo II safely. Now Nyssa was being eaten by wolves.

Annabeth and Piper had found her two hours ago, broken at the bottom of a cliff, a pack of wolves greedily tearing up her flesh. The only reason they knew who she was was the bloodied orange t-shirt mostly torn apart and the hammer at her side. The gust of wind that had blown her off course must have slammed her into the side of the mountain. Her death should have been instantaneous, but Piper wasn't sure. All she knew is the white wolf viciously tearing off a chunk of her face had narrowed its cold eyes at the daughter of Aphrodite, mouth blood from its unfinished meal, meat stuck between its teeth. And Piper had screamed.

Now the duo was sprinting away from the horrible scene. They hadn't stopped yet, but exhaustion and lack of food slowed them down until they both had to collapse. Annabeth kept trying to move, but Piper had been holding it in for too long. Annabeth had been supporting her up until then, but she swung her arm off the daughter of Athena's shoulder and fell to her knees, retching violently as the image of Nyssa's disemboweled and bloodied body was seared into her eyes forever.

As Piper's convulsions drew to an end, Annabeth's began. Piper waited for her to stop, but her partner didn't have any stomach contents to divulge. She just retched and retched and retched to no avail, trying to get rid of the vulgar taste in her mouth but not being able to conjure up what didn't exist.

The little sustenance they had managed to gather was now thoroughly depleted from their systems, their stomachs empty of food and water. They hadn't had substantial nourishment in days and the stolen bites of ambrosia was no longer enough. They needed actual food, but the small blades of grass sprouting weren't going to cut it anymore. It was dry, tasteless, and held no nutritional value. But Piper greedily yanked one from the ground and stuffed it in her mouth anyway.

Annabeth collapsed onto one elbow, looking up weakly at Piper with a look of defeat. Wordlessly, because they had lost the ability to speak a long time ago, they reached the same conclusion. They were going to die.

Out here, alone, forgotten by all except the small circle of friends and family they still had left. Annabeth's father and mortal half-brothers, maybe even her mother, would desperately search for her. But who could think to find her carcass in the middle of Oakland Hills? Certainly anyone on the Argo II who had survived would search for her, but as sporadic as the ship had been in its final minutes, no one would really know where to look.

And Piper's father would hire anyone and everyone he could in desperation to find his missing daughter. But he wouldn't suspect foul play yet. He'd think she was still happy at her new camp, playing with her friends, enjoying her life away from him. It wouldn't be until Thanksgiving that he would begin to question her fate. By Christmas, surely, he would know something terrible had befallen. He'd look everywhere at that point. Try to pinpoint her location. Finagle the truth out of Couch Hedge, who'd confess to Piper's true heritage, lead him to Camp Half-Blood, where he'd be told about Camp Jupiter. He'd find the Hills, but by the time he rolled to where her broken body lay, he'd find nothing. Her bones would long be eaten bare and buried beneath the earth by then. No one would ever know what happened to the daughter of Tristan McLean.

A soft breeze blew dust above her head and she coughed weakly. Annabeth did too. They were silent again. Then Piper realized something. If she was going to die, she didn't want to do it alone.

Tentatively, her hand groped around for Annabeth's, nerve's sharp and tingling more than ever before. She could feel the coarseness of the earth, the occasional vegetation slicing into her seeking palm. Cracks on the dry ground. Hard clay. Merciless earth. Nothing to give her solace in her time of desperation.

Finally, victoriously, her hand found Annabeth's cold fingers and latched on for all it was worth. For a moment, Annabeth's hand remained limp in her grasp, then it tensed and her fingers coiled through Piper's.

"Partners," Annabeth choked out weakly, and her eyes closed. Piper did not know if it was for the last time, but she did not care anymore. If Annabeth was dead, it didn't matter, because Piper would see her in Hades soon enough.

Piper turned her iridescent eyes from Annabeth's peaceful sleeping face and to the dark sky looming above her, dotted with beautiful stars and even more beautiful moon. It was full tonight, majestic and breathtaking in every way. It's dim illumination found Piper's face and the daughter of Aphrodite closed her eyes, erasing Nyssa's body from her mind and falling to sleep with the image of majesty and hope in her mind. In her heart. The last good thing Piper ever expected to see.

But before her eyes shut entirely, she saw the outline of a familiar city in the distance. But it wasn't Berkley.

Camp Jupiter.

Nico's day was going pretty good until he found two half-dead girls lying on the ground.

Up until then, Ariadne had successfully distracted him from the virtual lion's den he was drawing closer and closer to, making him laugh and explain the various parts of modern day America. He'd been describing the finite details of an airplane (most of which he was making up) when he saw them.

At first, all he saw was blonde hair in a destroyed ponytail, but then he noticed the knife clutched in her right hand, glinting gold in the moonlight. Her left hand was latched with another girl's, who was also unconscious.

Nico raced to their side and desperately probed Annabeth's neck for a pulse. After several minutes of futility, he finally the thud beneath his fingers and sighed in relief. She was alive.

"Nico," a quiet voice whispered behind him. He turned and saw that the other girl, if possible, was in even worse shape than his friend. Her choppy brown hair was indeterminately long, because it had all knotted up at the back of her head. Her face was streaked with blood and grime and vomit, several varying degrees of injuries all over her sick body. Nico wasn't a doctor or even a son of Apollo, but he had been a half-blood long enough to grow accustomed to injuries and how to detect them. He began to gently lift up her hands, her arms, her legs, pressing into her ribs and watching her for a hiss or groan. Nothing. Then it dawned on him that although he checked for signs of life with Annabeth, he had yet to do so with this girl.

He sat back on his haunches and let his mind wander deliberately. As he'd suspected, the faint glimmering aura of life of life still flickered around the girl, but it was rapidly fading. "Get some water from the river." He ordered Ariadne, who didn't object to her surly tone. She merely hurried off to do as she was told.

Nico was getting something to work with, but the absence of Ariadne, for whatever purpose, left him with the impossible job of caring for two unconscious girls on the brink of death. It was nothing short of an impossible feat.

Annabeth groaned, and Nico froze. He pursed his lips. If he was Percy, he might be able to console her, but without water or nectar, he could do nothing more. And because of the fact he wasn't Percy; any move he made to comfort her would be seen as an attack and treated as such. So he didn't move.

Big mistake.

A split second later, Annabeth started thrashing around wildly, screaming her head off. She kept slamming her head into the earth beneath her, and Nico knew she would get a concussion that way if she didn't already have one. So he leapt through the air and landed on top of her, pinning her arms to the ground with a knee and hand while using his right to keep her head from flailing. Annabeth continued to scream for several more minutes, which attracted the attention of curious animals, before finally falling back to a motionless sleep. Just to be safe, Nico checked her aura and saw that she was at least in slightly better shape than the new girl.

Nico breathed a sigh of relief and started to rise off of Annabeth when he felt a knife press against his throat. Annabeth's arms were still restrained, so he figured it was either a monster or the other girl. A glance to the side proved the latter.

"Off," she growled. Nico slowly raised his hands in surrender and stood, the knife follow his neck until he was standing, and then forward when he stepped over his friend. Nico swallowed, and the pressure from the knife alleviated instantly. He turned and saw that the girl still held it up threateningly, but she was too concerned checking on Annabeth to bother with slitting his throat.

She probed her neck worriedly and furrowed her brow. "She's alive." Nico told her, but a dark glare from the girl silenced him. She didn't trust him.

The girl continued probing until she froze over the vein and sighed in relief, but then her face contorted in pain and she stumbled off Annabeth. Nico took a step forward and reached out to steady her, but she slashed the air with her knife and he stayed back.

"I'm not your enemy." He said quickly when it looked like the girl was going to attack. He could see the painful strain she was putting herself through just to remain standing. An attempted attack was not something she was up to. "I swear it on the Styx. Annabeth is my friend. She started flailing around, and I just wanted to help her. That's all."

The girl watched him carefully, like she was trying to find the falsehood in his words. But she wouldn't find any. She looked down at Annabeth and breathed in relief, collapsing onto the ground in a heap.

Nico rushed over to her, but she waved him off. "I'm fine," she said too quietly and hoarsely for peace of mind. Her knees were folded awkwardly beneath her, and both hands were flat against the ground keeping her up. But if she wouldn't let him help her, he simply wasn't going to force the issue. So he redirected his attention back to Annabeth, who was still unconscious.

"How are you feeling?" he asked the girl, looking up with just his eyes. She didn't answer for several moments.

"Alive," she muttered. "I thought I was going to die out here and no one would know it." She looked around, and Nico did too. It certainly wasn't an encouragingly thought. "Thank you...you know, for saving us." Nico grimaced and hoped it counted for a smile. He had been saving Annabeth, not her, but he didn't figure she'd appreciate that knowledge.

"It was nothing." He said instead, and she seemed to like that response. Apparently his grimace could go ignored, because her attempt at a grin fell short by a long shot. Nico looked down at Annabeth and swore. He couldn't do anything without that water, and Ariadne had been taking more time than he expected. The Little Tiber, the river he'd sent her after, wasn't far away, and as quickly as she moved, he'd expected her to come back within five or so minutes. It had been over fifteen.

His concern must have shown on his face, because the girl noticed it. "Looking for your girlfriend?" she asked. He tensed. He wasn't sure the phrase "girlfriend" would sit well with Ariadne, even if she knew what it meant.

"No," he told her shortly. "She's a friend. Like Annabeth," he added quickly before the girl could get the wrong idea. She smiled, this time for real.

"Don't worry," she assured him, though about what he didn't know. "I get it. She's close to you. You don't have to worry about me jumping to conclusions like most of my siblings." He took careful note of her mention of siblings, and didn't take much time figuring out who her mother was.

"You're a daughter of Aphrodite." He said. It wasn't a question, so she didn't answer. "And just so you know, you just did."

"Did what?"

"Jump to a conclusion. The first thing out of your mouth was 'Looking for your girlfriend.' That seems pretty presumptuous to me." The girl looked shocked, then abashed. Nico figured he'd overstepped his bounds by insulting a daughter of the goddess of love, but then again, he did that all the time. Especially when that arrogant Drew got in his face. He had an unending list of insults for her. He shrugged off her expression but couldn't shake her thoughtful stare at the back of his head. "What?"

"Nobody's ever said that to me before." she told him. At his look of confusion, she elaborated. "Called me a daughter of Aphrodite. They all think I'm a lot different." Again, Nico shrugged.

"I'm not everybody." He said easily. He didn't mind that, unlike most people. He'd gotten used to being ostracized because of his dad. It had gotten to the point where he tended to throw the first punch. Ariadne was the first person he'd ever met that didn't care who his father was. That was what was really cool about her. She judged people on their own merits, and didn't lie.

"I can see that." Suddenly the girl stopped, and laughed. "I forgot. My name's Piper." She offered her hand, which Nico promptly ignored. It wasn't necessary to shake it, not out in the middle of nowhere.

"Nico," he replied tersely, watching Annabeth like a hawk. "What happened to you two, anyway?" He looked up briefly at Piper and saw darkness pass over her pretty face before she bowed it. Unlike most people, the shadow didn't go away immediately. It stayed, like she was remembering something horrible that she would never be able to forget.

"We...a friend of mine built this flying ship, and we were heading for the Roman Camp. Camp Jupiter is what Jason calls it." If Nico had been eating something, he would have spit it out all over the poor girl.

"You know Jason?" he sputtered. She nodded.

"I guess you're a Roman, right?" Then she frowned. "But you called my mother Aphrodite. Her Roman name is Venus."

Nico debated how to respond. He could make up something borderline believable and not have to explain his sister to her, or he could be completely truthful and avoid the inevitable disemboweling that was bound to ensue when Annabeth found out what he'd done. He glanced down at the unconscious daughter of Athena, who groaned, and sighed. "I'm Greek." He told her. "But I've spent some time at Camp Jupiter before. My sister lives there."

Piper raised an eyebrow. "Do they know you're a Greek?" she asked. Nico shook his head, and the exhale sounded like a balloon deflating. "Even your sister?" The shake was more shameful this time. He hated having to lie to Hazel, but her loyalty to Rome could result in her blowing his cover-and until he was sure the Greeks and Romans could work together and he was the only who would feel the backlash-he couldn't risk that. "Who's your godly parent?"

Nico hesitated. "Hades," he said quietly. Piper's eyes widened predictably. "Yeah, I've heard it all before. 'Like father like son.' Don't even bother."

"That's cool."

That was not what he'd expected. As a matter of fact, it was kind of shocking to hear somebody besides Ariadne take the knowledge in stride. Of course, Nico had woken up with her calling him a son of Hades. He had no way of knowing how she initially took the information.

Piper was clearly trying to be nice, though. He could see the repulsion and alarm on her face that everyone had. Nobody wanted to be near a son of Hades. He wasn't trusted, no matter what he did. Just like his father.

"Nice try," he told her. "Thanks, though. That's more than most people." Piper looked shameful, but he didn't care. It wasn't right that people made assumptions based on who his dad was. Only Percy ever really got that sentiment. As a son of Poseidon, everyone expected him to be as legendary as his only mythological brother, Theseus, and it was hard to measure up to. It didn't matter that he'd actually killed the Minotaur and navigated the Labyrinth like the ancient son of Poseidon had; he had to be as good. It was big shoes to fill, especially when your feet melted every time you stepped into them.

The difference between the two cousins was the fact Percy was expected to be good. That wasn't hard for him. He didn't have an evil bone in his body. But Nico was expected to be bad. It didn't matter that he'd fought alongside everyone during the Titan War and had been the only one capable of bringing his father up from the depths of the Underworld to fight; he was born evil. He would turn on Olympus. He'd start trying to conquer the world. Seeming there were no mythological equivalents for him, he was stuck with Adolf Hitler. Honestly, Nico had lived in America during that war. It wasn't fair to compare him to the man who'd been his country's enemy. But they still did, anyway.

"Look, I... can you help us find it? Camp Jupiter, I mean. We can see it, but...we need help." Nico looked up at her for a moment. If she'd been travelling with anyone other than Annabeth, Nico would have told her no. Then again, he wouldn't have told her about Camp Jupiter if she hadn't been with Annabeth.

"Sure." He said. "I'm heading that way anyhow." Piper looked relieved. Just then, Annabeth stirred and picked her head up, groaning.

"Ow," she muttered. Her eyes flickered open and settled on Nico, who recoiled immediately at the look of disdain and hatred that passed through them. He started scrambling back, and Annabeth lunged at him, then sat back and held her head. "Double ow," she hissed painfully. Then her eyes looked up at Nico again.

"Where have you been, di Angelo?" she demanded angrily. Piper moved to intervene before blood was shed.

"He was..."

"Stay out of this, Piper. He was supposed to find Percy, and we didn't hear from him in months!" She whirled back on Nico, who was on his feet in a second. "And you! I expect to hear a detailed and very good explanation from you! So start!"

"I found him." Nico blurted, mostly out of self-preservation than any desire to stop lying to his friends. Annabeth would kill him if he wasn't one hundred percent truthful now. He'd known her long enough for that to be a guarantee.

Annabeth froze and fixated her calculating grey eyes on his dark brown. "What?" her voice was dangerously quiet.

"I found him. At Camp Jupiter. He has amnesia." The last was because he didn't feel like explaining Percy's inability to remember her while standing in front of the son of Poseidon.

Annabeth's eyes darkened, but she didn't look surprised. "I know. Has he remembered anything from his past yet?" Nico didn't understand how she could have known, but it occurred to him Jason Grace could have something to do with it.

"Not that I'm aware. Only he does recognize me. I had to make sure not to trigger in memory in the middle of a bunch of Romans." Annabeth's eyes narrowed. Nico figured he had about three seconds to run like the hounds of hell were after him before Annabeth put the last puzzle pieces together and turned him into putty.

"If you saw Percy at Camp Jupiter, that means...How long have you known about the Romans!" Annabeth roared, and Nico instinctively jumped back. Annabeth didn't pursue him, however, probably because she was still pretty weak.

"Uh...about ten or so months." Nico could see the struggle Annabeth to put up not to lunge at him. She breathed deeply again and again. "I was...well..." How was he supposed to explain his motivations to Annabeth without talking about Hazel?

Before Annabeth could pressure him for a reason, Ariadne appeared, looking frantic.

"Nico," she gasped. He's never seen her so frazzled. Her eyes were wild and she was panting, holding up her skirt while she ran. She slowed to a stop in front of him, and she didn't have any water.

"Ariadne, what..."

"Camp Jupiter! Something has gone terribly wrong. I heard the horns and the fighting. I was going to help, but then I saw what was happening. Two demigods are fighting back the rest of the Camp. One of them has a bow..."

Nico gripped her shoulders and made her look at him. "Does the other one have a long sword? Brown hair?" she nodded, gasping for breath. Nico didn't even pause to explain. He turned on his heel and sprinted for Camp Jupiter, blending into the shadows and running to his sister's aid.


	15. HalfBlood Quip 2

Leo's Not To Do List:

1.) Roast your third grade Math teacher alive. NO! I'VE NEVER DONE THAT! I thought about it though...)

2.) Volunteer for a life threatening quest. (Yes, I'm talking to you, Percy. Wherever the heck you are.)

3.) Hang upside down unconscious while Cyclopes plan what sauce you'll taste the best with. (Look me in the eye, Jason.)

4.) Ask the goddess of ice out on a date.

5.) Trust a satyr with your potato chips. "Seriously, man, it was the piranas!"

6.) Take a bath in oil. (Festus wasn't completely sound, okay?)

7.) Get blown apart with the ship. Going down is perfectly fine, but when it blows up, you're just being stupid.

8.) Have a father who's so ugly his own mother chucked him off the side of a cliff.

9.) Let your babysitter dangle you over wierd concoctions when you're three.

10.) Fight one-eyed monsters with a universal remote. Sure, it's really cool, but I lucked out. Do not try it at home.

11.) Accidentally set the Ares cabin's personal stash on fire. There is gunpowder in there.

12.) Let the Stoll brothers anywhere near your cabin with anything resembling a long cilander. That thing is dangerous!

13.) Point out the fact that your Activities Director at Camp Half-Blood wears curlers in his tails. (I have to make Piper steal foundation from her cabin to cover up the hoof marks.)

14.) Give Couch Hedge anything sharper than a club.

15.) Let a goat save you from falling to your death off the side of the cliff. So much more preferably to fall.

16.) Steal Drew's make-up kit. That girl will make you do some really messed up things.

17.) Play truth-or-dare with Piper. She will make you pick truth every time, and its always embarrassing.

18.) Let your cabin throw your birthday party. They know NOTHING!

19.) Tick off an all powerful primordial goddess named Gaea. (That says it all, doesn't it?)

and finally...

20.) Fall asleep on the unfinished Argo II. I will let you figure out what transpired.

Nico's Daily Planner:

Every day until doomsday:

Dodge Annabeth and Percy so they don't cut off your head in retaliation for lying to them.


	16. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen: The Final Stand**

Frank had never counted on emotional scenes. They were a waste of time and never succeeded in anything more than useless tears. But when he was forced to say goodbye to Percy, possibly for the last time, he felt his heart get wrenched from his chest.

He loved Hazel. He truly did. But up until that moment when they both turned to face the charging faces of people who had just seconds ago been their friends and family, he hadn't realized just how far that love extended for both his friends. They had fought giants together. They trusted each other. And these people thought they could kill his best friend without listening to his reasons.

Frank slung his bow off his shoulder and notched an arrow. He couldn't bring himself to kill any of these people, so he carefully chose a non-lethal one. It would cause mass-hysteria and confusion, maybe even knock a few people out, but it wouldn't kill. The word printed elegantly on the side was simple: "Chaos." That's all they needed.

He raised his weapon and aimed it at the center of the charging crowd. Taking a deep breath, he drew back the bowstring and waited. One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three...

He heard the door shut behind him and knew Percy and Luke had made it to safety. He only hoped his friend had made the right decision in trusting the ex-traitor. It was out of his hands now. The only thing he could do was delay the people who he had once called friends.

He realized that the only friend you have is the man you would die for.

He closed his eyes for a second, and when he opened them, he was forced to release the arrow. True to his unerring aim and accuracy, it sailed through the air with a sharp whistle and exploded in front of the army.

For a military based on order and discipline, the effect was immediate and devastating. They were consumed by a massive yellow cloud, too dense to see through. Frank could hear coughs and wheezes through the cloud, and the soldiers stumbled around like they could figure out which way was forward. The commanders attempted to regain control, but unfortunately for them, they too were disoriented.

Frank glanced over at Hazel, who had her _spatha_ drawn and ready. She looked at him, and for a moment, they shared each other's presence. Frank lowered his bow and took her free hand. They squeezed briefly and let go. There was no need to do anything more. The meaning was plain.

"I love you." He said, just to be sure. Hazel's eyes watered, and Frank's vision fogged up, so he figured he was doing the same thing.

"I love you too, Frank." She said emotionally. Grunts and orders rang out through the army, and Frank turned to see his moment of victory was already expended. They had regrouped and were marching forward again.

He didn't see how it was necessary to mass the entire camp to capture four half-bloods, but apparently, the others disagreed. Because every last one of them looked bound and determined to kill him.

He wanted to say something else, to make Hazel feel better, but he knew it wouldn't mean anything. At most, it would be a small assurance to him. They weren't going to live through this. The sad part of it was; they both knew that this would be their final stand. There would be no more quests or life-threatening adventures for them. The Fates were poised over their strings, and any minute, the snip would echo through Frank's ears and he would die.

He also figured Percy and Luke wouldn't make it far, either. Frank and Hazel would fight as long as they could, but eventually, they'd be overtaken. And judging by the determination on the faces of their fellow Romans that would be sooner rather than later. When Percy was caught, there wouldn't even be a trial. He would be executed on the spot.

Frank wondered if this was how Luke Castellan had felt while betraying Olympus. The feeling of overwhelming guilt and hopelessness, like it would never work. He wondered if this was what it felt like to be a traitor. The answer echoed through his mind like a distant drum: Yes.

But Frank wasn't a traitor, and neither was Hazel. They trusted Percy with their lives, and if he had to go to Mount Othrys, they knew he had a good reason. He was saving the world, and they had to help. So when he locked eyes with Bobby, who had voted to condemn Luke, he felt no remorse. Bobby heaved up his _pilum_ and shield, lowering his stance while he sized up Frank. Frank realized he had never fought Bobby before, even in war games, and he didn't know how he fought.

He found out pretty fast.

Bobby lunged toward him, spear lashing out fast enough to graze his side. Thanks to his armor, Frank wasn't cut, but the force knocked the wind out of him. He hastily slung his bow back over his shoulder and drew his own sword. Frank hated the _gladius_. It was too short and delicate for someone of his size to use, and it was not designed to fight a long-range weapon. But he had no other choice.

Bobby lunged again, but this time Frank was ready for him. He remembered Percy's lightning fast movements and how unorthodox they were. To the best of his ability, he tried to mimic the quick footwork and parried the strike. Frank hadn't been trained as a Greek, so his attempted sidestep sent him stumbling into Valerie, a daughter of Mercury, who was too shocked to retaliate. Taking advantage of her surprise, Frank slammed the butt of his sword into her helm and she collapsed in a heap.

The real army was still back a ways, regrouping and recovering from Frank's Chaos arrow. Right now, Hazel and Frank only had to contend with the few individuals who had either been behind or in front of the cloud, and therefore relatively unaffected. Hazel had already disposed of three of Octavian's followers, all lying on the ground with their legs buried to the knees in the ground. Frank grinned. She must have collapsed the ground beneath them.

A battle cry tore Frank from his admiration of his girlfriend and back to his friend turned enemy Bobby charging toward him. At the last moment, instead of thrusting, Bobby tried to swipe Frank's legs out from under him, but Frank's surprise was to his advantage. He tripped into Bobby, knocking him off balance. While Bobby fell to the ground, Frank wrenched his spear from his grip. He barely managed to correct himself before he went down with him.

Frank backed up at saw that the others had regrouped and were marching up toward him. The Chaos had been completed lost, and the inbred sense of duty in his fellow Romans had pushed them past it. He was out of time.

He stood by Hazel again, but they didn't exchange a look this time. Frank sheathed his sword again and fired his bow repeatedly. The militia was so close that being nit-picky about which arrow he used was suicide. When he aimed for them, he aimed for nonlethal areas of the body. The right shoulder, the leg and knee, the hand, anything to incapacitate and not kill.

But it was rapidly getting to the point where he couldn't even do that anymore. They just kept forging ahead, and Frank began to suspect that their bloodlust was a product of some form of divine interference. It wouldn't surprise him if Gaea had planted the ideas in their minds that Hazel and Frank sought to destroy Rome from the inside out, but if that was the case, Frank didn't know how to combat it. He might be able to appeal to their friendships and loyalties, but if they had been brainwashed to see him as a threat, that might not be an option.

He hoped Thanatos would excuse his friends if they were killed, but he couldn't be sure. And he couldn't afford to care anymore.

The battle raged on endlessly. Frank fired arrow after arrow, no longer aiming or caring where it hit. He moved through the crowd, using his bow to fend off attackers, and Hazel collapsed small areas of ground so that the army fell through.

Eventually, they made it to the Pomerian Line, near the Aqueduct, and Frank got a crazy idea. He looked around for Hazel, but couldn't see his only companion. No, not only companion. Others were battling their own friends for Frank's sake, fighting them back and keeping them away from him. Frank shot a grateful look at Gwen, who took out the legs of a charging son of Mars. Frank nodded at her and looked up, at the top of the Aqueduct.

He concentrated on the small, petite body of a sparrow, and as a sword sliced through the air where he had been standing, he transformed and flew up to the top. From his elevation, he could see everything as it raged on below. Hazel was surrounded in the middle of the army, furiously slashing and stabbing. She took down one of her attackers, but the others closed in, pressing her until she had no room to move. One of them was Octavian.

The augur raised his knife above his head, and Frank swooped down from his perch, bird again. But before he could go to her aid, the knife had already descended.

And clattered to the ground.

Octavian's arm was severed at the elbow, blood gushing from the amputation. Octavian roared, his face covered with the spray. He tried to stem the flow, and Hazel was covered from head to toe.

Frank kicked Octavian away from Hazel and looked around for her savior. While Frank was distracted, Octavian had picked up his knife with his left hand and lunged at Frank, screaming like a madman.

They both fell to the ground, and Frank felt the air go cold. Everyone had stopped fighting, and all turned in a daze to the two men on the ground. Octavian pressed the knife to Frank's throat, a savage, primal look glinting in his eyes. In that moment, the suspicions that Frank had maintained about Octavian being insane were no longer suspicions. They were cold hard facts.

Octavian's bloody stump held down Frank's right arm, and he couldn't feel his left. He saw a slash across the forearm, where his tattoo was, and saw it was cut in half. The double spears were separated by a line of crimson. Red and white flashed through his vision, and Octavian's knee on his chest hurt a rib he hadn't known was broken.

"Fool," Octavian hissed maniacally. "You and all of the others. Fools. For seven years I bided my time, waiting for the right moment. And then that stupid son of Neptune crossed the river, escorted to safety by the two of you. I knew who the prophecy was about then. I'd known about the daughter of Pluto, but you..."

Octavian's spat in Frank's face, and the saliva hit his eyes before he could blink. Frank screamed as the pain stung and blinded. He fought to see past it, but it was hard. When his vision refocused, he saw a psychotic grin etched across Octavian's pale face. "I never thought you could be part of the effort to thwart Mother Earth. You're weak, Zhang. Weak and pathetic and too clumsy to be a concern. But despite everything you have working against you; you're a member of the Seven. And I didn't know why until today."

Octavian looked up to the Aqueduct and his smile got bigger. "You can transform into a bird. Probably a lot more than that, too. And you thought I didn't know about that stick in your pocket?" Frank gulped. Hazel had the stick, his lifeline, but if Octavian knew about it... "But funny thing is, you can still feel pain. You can still be injured. You can even be virtually killed, held in a coma until that stick of yours is burned to ashes. So I'm going to put you in a coma, Zhang, and use your life to light my candles."

Octavian lifted the knife above his head and started to bring down on Frank's heart. Frank turned away and heard Hazel call out his name, but Octavian couldn't be stopped. There was no one close enough to...

"I love you, Hazel." He said one last time as the knife fell.

* * *

Percy drove like a maniac, winding down the freeway as far as a certain car would take him before he saw the coppers in his rearview mirror and pulled over to switch. It was the first he had ever borrowed a car and actually left it undamaged, except for a couple kinks and dents here and there.

He was turning into an off-ramp when his heart felt like it was being compressed into a tight ball. He screamed and leaned forward. "Luke!" he cried out, because his limbs wouldn't work to control the car. The blonde-haired son of Hermes barely had enough time to react and take the steering wheel before Percy blacked out.

_Suddenly, he was running alongside three demigods up Half-Blood Hill. He recognized two on sight, and the third with a little more trouble. Two of them were blonde, but one was a blue-eyed guy and the other a much younger girl, at least half his age. The black-haired one of the trio was carrying an incredibly threatening shield with the head of Medusa imprinted on the front of it._

_He didn't need to guess what he was seeing. Percy knew what was coming. He'd heard about it a thousand times, but never in detail. This was the last stand of Thalia Grace, daughter of Zeus._

_Thalia, the black-haired girl, skidded to a stop halfway up the hill. "Grover, come on!" she screamed. That's when Percy saw the familiar satyr trotting breathlessly up the hill after them._

"_Go!" he gasped. "Through the barrier! Quickly!" _

_Thalia glanced up at the crest of the hill and something passed across her face. Percy knew that look. It was the look of someone who was out of choices. _

_She looked back down the hill sorrowfully at the horde of monsters charging up it. Far too many coming too fast. Thalia exchanged looks with Grover, who bowed his head. "Go, I'll...I'll use my pipes or something." he told her, but Thalia shook her head, tears in her eyes. "Thalia, you heard it too." He whispered. "You know what the prophe..."_

_Thalia stepped forward and embraced Grover, who looked taken aback. She snapped her fingers and looked at him kindly. "We never heard a prophecy, Grover. Go on ahead. Get Annabeth and Luke to safety. I'll give these bad boys something a lot bigger to worry about than a couple lame old demigods and a satyr."_

_Something changed on Grover's face. Percy knew what Thalia had done. Whatever Grover was talking about before about a prophecy before had been erased from his memory. She'd used the Mist. _

_Grover was not in control of himself anymore. He ushered Annabeth and Luke up the hill, but Luke resisted. "Thalia!" he cried desperately, fighting against Grover and breaking past him, drawing his sword and standing by her side. But Thalia shoved him up the hill, telling him he had to keep Annabeth safe. "You'll die!" he protested weakly, but Thalia shook her head. _

"_I'll be fine, Luke, don't worry. I'm a daughter of the lord of the skies, remember?" She smiled, and Luke didn't look convinced. Gently, she kissed him on the lips, and Percy's dream-eyes widened. He had never known Thalia and Luke were a thing before...this._

"_Now get out of here." She ordered, and Luke looked dazed. Neither Annabeth nor Grover had seen the exchange between them, and Percy wondered if they had ever known. Luke ran back up the hill and Thalia gripped her spear bravely, facing down the charging and smiling._

_The fight was epic. Sometimes, it seemed like Thalia was going to make it through, but Percy knew the outcome. The tide kept turning, but Thalia was the true hero in this. By the time her enemies were dust at her feet, a sword had sunk into her stomach. She stumbled back to the top of the hill, the monsters all dead._

_She looked back at the demigods gathered below to watch the spectacle unfold. They all stood back while she stared at them, stunned. They had seen her conjure lightning and knew she wasn't supposed to be alive. This was what had to happen._

_She turned her back to them and looked down the hill. A red-feathered harpy viewed her curiously. "Ella is sad. Ella misses friend." She said sweetly, and then fluttered farther up the hill. "_The prophecy old as time renewed by the sacrifice of the girl abused._" Ella quoted. "_Three of four to safety go, while one remains for roots to grow._"_

"_I assumed it was Grover." Thalia muttered. "I thought he'd turn into a tree, but..." she looked down at the ground and saw the bark already spreading. She turned her face heavenward. "I'll keep her from helping her son, father. I promise. But please...I don't want to remember this. Just let me forget it all ever happened." Thunder rumbled above, and Thalia's eyes glazed over. Ella fluttered away, and Thalia gradually turned into a tree. _

Percy was shaken awake from a frantic Luke. He looked over and met his panicked blue eyes. "I couldn't wake you. I thought you were dead or..."

"I'm not dead," Percy said quickly, leaning away from Luke. He realized he was in a restaurant just then. Luke must have pulled into a truck stop. He shook his head and blinked his eyes hard. The son of Hermes, assured that Percy wasn't facing imminent death, slid into the booth opposite him. The waitress appeared then, carrying her little notepad and pen, looking expectant. "Err..." Percy thought. "Coke for me, I guess."

"Root Beer," Luke told her. She hurried off to deliver the orders. Luke turned back to Percy and leaned forward. "So, what did you see?" Percy cursed mentally. Of course he wouldn't be able to convince Luke of anyone except a dream. All demigods had them, constantly.

Percy didn't want to confess the dream. He still didn't understand it, but he did know that the day Thalia had allegedly lost her life was the day that everything had been set into motion. The war with Gaea and the Giants could have easily happened then, but because of the fact she became a tree, she managed to stop Gaea from helping her son. Not only had her brave final stand saved Annabeth and Luke, and he had previously suspected, but it could easily have saved the world. He could never do something like that.

He wondered how long Gaea had been stirring and how the gods hadn't known sooner. Gaea's attempt at rising back in the forties had cost Hazel her first life, and the gods had done nothing. Had warned no one. They had been letting this fester for years, maybe even centuries, and done nothing to stop it. It had all been planned from the very beginning. So what game were the gods playing? And why had they showed him the dream?

"My mother," Percy lied easily, and the waitress came back with their drinks. When she waited for orders, Percy waved her away politely and told her they were still thinking about it. She looked unhappy, but she left again. "She was looking for me in New York."

Luke didn't look convinced, but it was the best Percy could come up with, so he just started sipping his Coke while Luke tentatively playing with his straw, watching his partner with such intensity Percy found himself unnerved. "What aren't you telling me, Percy?" he asked, and suddenly, Percy felt a surge of anger at the accusation, however true.

"What did I ever do to you, Luke? You tried to kill and my friends, and now you're the one pointing fingers. Even if I was hiding something, you wouldn't have any right to ask." He snapped, surprising Luke, who leaned back in his seat. A few truckers were staring, but Percy didn't care.

"But, the quest..." Luke argued, but Percy waved him off.

"If has nothing to do with it, alright? And I'd tell you if it did." _Even if it had everything to do with your girlfriend and the fate of the world_, he didn't say, because that would be awkward. So Percy drank his soda in silence, tipped the waitress, and walked out, Luke trailing behind him. Whatever was coming, Percy was sure it was going to be hard to beat. And even harder to accept.

* * *

**Sorry, but for some reason I have to put this at the end of this chapter. I don't know how many of you know this, but there's Demigod Diaries coming out in August, I think, and it's like Demigod Files, only for HoO. One of the short stories is from Luke's point of view while he's travelling with Annabeth and Thalia. And I recently got to thinking: "Luke's already a corpse, so why bring him back up?" At first, I thought maybe it was because of questions from the readers, but what if it isn't. What if Riordan is actually planning to bring Luke back? All I can say is that I think that would be both a predictable and incredibly unexpected outcome, but would still be cool?**

**Up until now, I haven't been big on begging for reviews. But for crying out loud, people, send me your opinions! I'm not just putting this up for fun, you know! I want to know what you think of my writing, and not just with Percy Jackson. I want your opinions on character interaction, battle scenes, and conveyance of emotion, sentence fluency, all of it. I have my own stuff, not affiliated with PJO. **

**And I would like to thank Kaitie85386 for the only good reviews I've gotten so far. **

**Feel free to tell me I'm being obvious or way off. I will always think Octavian is a treacherous sack of sh*t, just so you know. Even if Riordan tells me otherwise. That greedy SOB must die!**

**I'm rambling on, so I might be more invested in reviews from now on. Please, please, please, review!**


	17. Chapter 15

**I don't even know why I named Chapter 13 Revenge. I was going one way with it, and then went another. Call it "Misunderstood." I don't know. I can't think of a name. Bad excuse, sorry.**

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Rendezvous**

Jason could feel the tremble in his knees while he carried Rachel the last few miles to Camp Jupiter. It would have been utterly exhausting if it wasn't for the fact he felt rejuvenated.

His nearness to his home sent tendrils of excitement up his spine, and the closer he got, the bigger his smile grew. While the others sulked and complained, he found himself lifting morale and laughing. Clarisse kept calling him a Pollyanna, but he didn't care. In less than a mile, he would be home safe.

Camp Jupiter wasn't only in sight. It was right in front of him. Rachel was still unconscious, so Jason had to resist the urge to drop her and run in. As it was, his pace picked up as soon as he saw the Little Tiber. Rachel groaned, but he ignored her. She was fine.

He was expecting catch sight of one of his friends and have a big reunion. But instead, he found everyone gathered around by the Aqueduct, weapons drawn. His heartbeat quickened and pounded in his ears when it occurred to him that they were under attack. He didn't pay attention to the fact nobody was moving.

"Clovis, watch her!" he ordered the son of Hypnos and placed Rachel on the ground, running toward the crowd with sword drawn.

He reached the outer reaches of the crowd and shoved past them, thinking there were monsters or something. But everyone was gawking at something in the center of the crowd, but Jason couldn't make out what it was yet. He tried to look past the Romans gathered around, but he had no luck. He recognized a half dozen faces, but nobody seemed to notice him.

Finally, he tried his last card. "Twelfth Legion of Rome, I am your praetor Jason Grace. I demand to know what is going on!" Complete silence was his answer. If anyone heard him over their own thoughts, they didn't act like it. They could have been frozen for all the reaction he got.

Jason's patience was wearing thin. He shoved his way to the center of the crowd, cursing them in Latin for their behavior. But when he saw what had their attention, he wasn't angry anymore.

There were two men on the ground, clearly in the midst of a fight, except they weren't fighting anymore. The blonde-haired one of the two had the other pinned to the ground, his knife raised above his head and ready to kill. Jason recognized the skinny form and purple robe to be that of Octavian, augur and foreteller of fortune for Camp Jupiter. He remembered his enemy pretty well, including several of their more heated arguments. Jason noticed Octavian wasn't wielding the knife with his right hand, as was dominant, but rather his left. One glance at the amputated limb answered Jason's question.

Blood was pooled on the ground around the two men. It was as if time had decided to stand still, everyone watching in horror as the spectacle unfolded. Jason spotted a familiar looking brown-haired girl running forward, sword poised to kill, but knew she would be too late. Today, Octavian would divine the will of the gods using the guts of a man.

He identified the girl as Hazel Levesque and felt a twinge of guilt. She had arrived at Camp Jupiter shortly before Jason had been abducted by Hera and had instantly befriended him. Her mysterious brother, however, refused to stay at camp long enough to be known as anything aside from his first name. Jason fought to remember even that now, but it continued to evade him.

However, the soon-to-be victim of Octavian had no name that he knew. There wasn't even a spark of recognition there, nothing aside from pity at his fate. So he had gotten there after Jason had left. Meaning he would die nameless to him.

Jason took deliberate care to study his living features before the cold pallor of death dominated them. He was relatively light-skinned with the barest hint of a tan. He, of course, couldn't make out the boy's eyes, but his hair was a buzzed black wedge atop his head. On his right, behind Octavian, Jason could see a bow in his grip, but a long range weapon could not help him now. At the very least, Jason was able to identify him as a son of Apollo.

There was an unbearable helplessness to the whole situation. Jason liked thinking he was in control and could alter the outcome of any given battle or problem-probably a hereditary attribute gained from his father-but seeing the boy lying on the ground, about to be murdered, and being unable to stop it...it ripped his still-beating heart from his chest.

Hazel was still trying to reach Octavian, and judging by the time the villain was taking to land the final blow, Jason thought she might make it in time. Until five of Octavian's loyal followers appeared from the crowd and shoved her onto her butt. In an instant, she was back on her feet, kicking and screaming and clawing in desperation while she tried to reach the son of Apollo before it was too late.

No one else made any moves to help him. The heavy weight of grief and loss already hung in the air, making everyone feel sluggish and slow. Even Jason, who had once prided himself on being able to react quickly and efficiently to a situation, found himself paralyzed by the pure gravity of the experience.

He remembered, during the battle with Krios, watching numerous people fall. Not all were dead, but at the time, they might as well have been. Some must have lain in their own pools of blood for hours, mute, before Death finally had mercy and took them. The speed and frenzy of the fighting had preoccupied Jason's mind enough that at that time he hadn't been able to think about it. Dodging a sword seemed more pertinent at that moment than contemplating the various stages of death.

But now, with everyone immobilized and frozen in shock, not fighting, not screaming, and not doing anything but staring, Jason felt ten times more responsible. Although there were hundreds of people in the crowd-all capable of stopping Octavian and none of them did anything-Jason still felt as if it was his job to stand up and say something.

He knew it was already too late. He knew his voice would sound above the silence, but if anything, it would only bring about the son of Apollo's quicker end, but for the life of him he could not stand around idly while innocent blood was spilt.

He stepped forward with the air of a leader given to him at birth. Few noticed his movement, but he spotted Dakota, the red-mouth-stained son of Bacchus, with his eyes wide in shock.

"JASON!"

The effect was immediate. Eyes turned to him instantly, and even Octavian fumbled on the knife as he brought it down, staring at his old praetor in a mixture of astonishment and anger.

Octavian's other arm was bleeding heavily. He looked down at it, his face even paler than before. He looked like he was going to be sick. Jason's grand reveal had delayed things, but it hadn't been by much. It could hardly be considered a diversion. But he attracted enough attention that Hazel was able to gain the upper-hand with her opponents, kicking three away from her, slamming one's face into her knee, and simply shoving the last aside. She redoubled her efforts to reach the son of Apollo, running for all she was worth.

But it still wasn't enough.

Octavian had recovered from his surprise and was bringing the knife down again, right on the upper-left chest of his victim, where his heart beat desperately, no doubt. Octavian let out an estranged cry of delight as he plunged downward with the weapon that had before been used only to murder teddy bears. Now it was being used to murder an actual man.

But Octavian hadn't been fast enough.

The entire thing was so fast; Jason could hardly follow it with his eyes. He saw the night ripple like a black cloth, and a boy stepped out of it, standing directly behind Octavian. His sword drove through Octavian's spine, sliding through his stomach like it was made of butter.

It shouldn't have been instantaneous. Octavian should have had at least a few seconds before he died, but there was no last shaky breath. A red kind of light swirled around the midnight black blade of the boy's sword, and Octavian's face froze in the same manic expression he had worn while he attempted to stab the son of Apollo. He hadn't even had time to be surprised.

The boy removed his sword from Octavian, kicking the dead body aside emotionlessly. He rolled off the son of Apollo and lay face-up on the ground. Dead.

Jason couldn't take credit for any of it. His intent had been to make himself feel less guilty later on about the entire ordeal. He had never expected to save anyone. But he felt a surge of pride nonetheless; thankful he had chosen that moment to act. If he had been any faster or slower, it would have been too late.

Suddenly, Jason was hit with a memory harder than a freight train. The faces of this boy and Hazel standing side-by-side, siblings coming to Camp Jupiter for the first time. Both were children of Pluto, god of the Underworld, and had found each other somewhere in New Orleans. But Hazel's brother hadn't stuck around long enough to really meet anyone aside from Reyna and Jason, who he had to placate in order to get Hazel accepted. He had left immediately after.

But now here he was, in the nick of time, saving the son of Apollo from certain death. Hazel fell to her friend's side and took his hand. Judging by the loving expression in her eyes, he was more than a simple friend.

Her brother didn't seem to catch that, though. He smiled pleasantly at the son of Apollo and offered him a hand. He declined in favor of Hazel's assistance, which did make her brother raise a tentative eyebrow. But he made no indication he saw the romantic behavior of the two. At least until Hazel kissed her boyfriend.

Jason remembered the boy's name to be Nico. He couldn't remember a last name, but it didn't particularly matter. Nico stiffened and sheathed his sword tensely. Hazel seemed to notice his unease and reached to place a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, but permitted her to hug him.

They exchanged a few words and then smiled at each other. Nico turned his attention back to the son of Apollo, who shrugged innocently. Nico shook his hand, but the son of Pluto's expression was significantly harder than the friendly smile before. This one seemed forced, and dangerous. It was clear he did not approve of his involvement with Hazel.

That was when the attention was returned to Jason, who up until then had been invested in the interactions between the three "friends." Nico was still warm and brotherly toward Hazel, but her boyfriend had been kicked down the totem pole by quite a lot.

"So," He said reasonably, clearly making small talk with Frank and not paying attention to Jason, unlike everyone else. "Frank. When'd you start dating my sister?" Frank cringed and Hazel stepped closer to him. Everyone noticed the dangerous, protection edge to Nico's voice.

Frank started stumbling over his words, trying to figure out a response. Hazel looped her arm with Frank's, mostly to hold him upright, but the action was also a sign to her brother that she had grown attached to him and wouldn't appreciate it if Nico ripped him limb from limb.

"It appears we have company." A voice called over the growing commotion spreading through the crowd at Jason's reappearance and Nico's heroic arrival. Jason turned toward the voice and saw a beautiful black-haired woman from the past walk through an isle of campers toward him.

Reyna hadn't changed a bit. Her long black hair still cascaded down her back in a sleek, controlled fall. Her eyes still retained that hidden gentleness that had attracted Jason to her to being with, but tonight they were hard and cold, boring into Jason's like drills. He explored them, trying to convey a silent apology, but he couldn't get past the underlying pain in his pupils. It was clear he had lost the trust of his friend.

She sauntered over to him, looking regal while covered in blood and dirt. Her sword was clutched in her hand, stained red on the edge, and when Reyna saw Jason looking at her, she guiltily sheathed her weapon. She wondered who she had maimed during the fighting.

Jason had always commanded a crowd, but Reyna's intimidating aura always stole the stage. It was no different today, only most were watching to see how she would react to Jason's sudden reappearance.

"Jason," she said in deceptive calmness. "Welcome back," She held out her hand sharply, expression unreadable. Jason had expected something less formal on his return, but there was no affection or forgiveness in her handshake. Jason solemnly shook her hand, feeling ostracized and hated.

Jason opened his mouth to explain what had happened to Reyna, but just then, a familiar yell rang out through his ears. "Nico di Angelo, what is going on here?"

Jason turned and saw Annabeth Chase limping through the crowd. She looked like death. She was pale and anorexic; walking awkwardly on her left leg like it was hurt. There was dirt and blood streaking her face and arms, and her clothes were torn and disheveled. Her orange t-shirt was barely clinging to her thin form, hanging useless on her shoulders with claw marks down the front. It was blood-stained.

Despite her obviously poor condition, Annabeth still seemed able to make people in the nearby vicinity cringe from fear. She was supporting herself on Piper, but only just. She was mostly making a beeline for Nico with blood in her eye.

Annabeth swung her arm off Piper's shoulder and stumbled toward Nico, who started backing up quickly. She only made it about three steps before she collapsed to the ground, but she was determined to reach Nico if it was the last thing she did. Piper had to hold her back before she threw herself on top of him. Another dark-haired girl appeared. She wore a Greek chiton and was simply beautiful in every way.

She surveyed the gathered crowd with soft eyes and they widened when they found Octavian's dead body. She knelt at its side and glanced up at Nico. "Did you do this?" she asked quietly. The shame on Nico's face was unmistakable. He looked away from her guiltily.

"He was going to kill Frank." The girl did not look ashamed of him or disgusted. She just nodded and rested her right hand on his arm, looking into his eyes as if searching for something. For several minutes, she stayed like that, and Nico's face flushed. Then she stepped away from him and turned to face the crowd in general.

"Citizens of New Rome," she called. "We come here seeking sanctuary and safety, not war. We want nothing more than your cooperation and temporary hospitality. Please, permit us a few days stay before you chase us away."

Her words were more powerful than even Piper's charmspeak. People immediately started nodding and offering the newcomers clothes and ambrosia. Just then, Jason's group appeared, Clovis stumbling under Rachel's weight. The Oracle's eyes began to flicker open drowsily. She stirred, and in his surprise, Clovis dropped her. She groaned when she landed hard on the ground.

Nico and Jason both rushed to her aid. She muttered incoherently and waved them off, continuing to mumble as she pushed herself upright and choked out, "Water," Jason gave her his canteen, and she drained it thirstily. Her thirst quenched, it was time for hunger to be addressed. Her stomach rumbled lowly, but Nico just shrugged. He didn't have anything.

Jason counted the number of Greek campers now. Almost all of them save for about five and Leo. He frowned. He couldn't see his light-hearted friend anywhere. He turned around and saw Piper stumbling toward him, arms outstretched and tears streaming.

He lifted his girlfriend into the air and laughed, kissing her in joy. She smiled at him for a moment before burying her head in his shirt and sobbing. He stroked her back sympathetically and watched Reyna's reaction carefully. His friend and co-praetor looked shocked, then understanding. She nodded. "I can't blame you." She mouthed. She knew about his amnesia.

Piper pulled away, but Jason left his arms wrapped around her waist. Piper looked around and grimaced. "Jason," she muttered.

"Hmm?"

"We're making a scene." Jason pulled away, a little bitter, because no one would protest when Percy and Annabeth were just as sappy.

Speaking of, the legendary son of Poseidon was nowhere in sight. He'd seen pictures of his black-haired cousin, but for the life of him he couldn't see him or Leo anywhere. Something starting building the pit of his stomach, a kind of mounting dread about who hadn't made it off the ship. He looked at Piper, who started under his fierce gaze. "Piper," he said anxiously. "Where's Leo?"

Water filled her eyes and started trailing down her cheeks again. Jason stumbled backward, releasing his girlfriend in shock and grief. "There was only one parachute for him and Annabeth, and..." Jason looked up at the daughter of Athena, suddenly feeling hate surge toward her in waves. Leo had died saving her life. His death was her fault.

Then a horrible thought occurred to him. Leo had counted out every parachute for every person. He'd double, triple, quadruple checked. And in Jason's haste to get off the ship, he had forgotten a conversation he'd had with his friend just before the Argo II's take-off.

"_Yo, Jason," he called from his pilot's quarters at the front of the ship. "We don't have enough parachutes for you to use one. You can fly off, right, Sparky?" Jason stiffened at his name, but he was so preoccupied with thoughts of going back to Camp Jupiter that he hadn't really paid attention to what Leo had said._

"_Yeah, 'course." _

It wasn't Annabeth's fault there hadn't been enough parachutes onboard. It had been his.

"No," he breathed. "No, no, no, no, NO!" He gripped his hair, trying to pull it out, denying the obvious truth. He looked at the inside of his left forearm, where his tattoo was burned. He shook his head in disbelief. He wasn't a praetor. He was a coward.

While he was safe in Camp Jupiter getting a hero's welcome and claps on the back from his old friend, Leo had died a hero's death, and nobody would ever know.

* * *

Felicia trailed along behind Leo while he muttered angrily under his breath.

His father had overstepped his bounds by "visiting" him, and that nasty slur about his friend was just unforgivable. Whatever delusion Hephaestus had about Leo being an obedient good son couldn't be farther from the truth.

Leo wasn't ready to forgive his dad for his inactivity in his life. He couldn't bring himself to let his mother's death go, and never would. She hadn't been meant to die, and her death must have been excruciating. Despite Hephaestus' claims that he loved Esperanza Valdez, Leo knew different. No one would let the woman they love perish in a fire if they had anything to say about it.

Felicia seemed to notice Leo's anger, because she kept trying to make small talk and distract him. He could only imagine how nervous she had to be, watching someone as easy going as Leo Valdez look so angry and tense. He certainly wouldn't have been reassured.

But he had to find Camp Jupiter. He had to reach the Roman camp and tell his friends about the blueprint. And he had to figure out his feelings toward Felicia.

At first, he just thought it was the attraction he felt toward every girl he couldn't have. But as time wore on, it became apparent to him that it was more than that. Felicia might have been out of his league, but she didn't act cold and uninterested like all the other girls he liked. And she wasn't beautiful. She was pretty.

That was the biggest part.

Leo couldn't help staring at her like some creepy stalker. He always tried to pass it off as she had something in her teeth and stuck in her hair, but he never stared there. He watched her eyes, or the ways she moved her hands, both gracefully and clumsily. He loved the way her cheeks flushed when she noticed him staring, or how she yelled at him when he said something stupid or screwed up.

And when he found out who her mother was, instead of being afraid and wary, he went defensive. Daughter of Hecate or no, Leo had grown attached to her, but the defensiveness was stronger than how he would've stuck up for someone like Piper. It was brotherly, but only to an extent. It was far stronger than that, or even his defensiveness of his mother.

Leo was starting to think he had fallen in love with her.

And not the stupid little crushes he developed on Khione and Thalia. It was a lot more than that, and far more real. But she spurred everything he did to get her attention and clearly didn't care for him any more than a temporary companion. So Leo kept his eyes straight ahead and didn't look at her, because it wasn't fair to either of them if he fell in love.

Leo's fire ability easily melted the surrounding snow, making Felicia's job easier as she forged through the cold behind him. His anger must have made his fire hotter, because she didn't shiver once.

Leo caught his eyes wandering toward her when she brushed her hair behind her ear. He watched the movement for several moments before snapping his attention forward. He tried to reason with himself why he shouldn't love her. She didn't like him, for one. Big strike against the whole Leo/Felicia dynamic and she had lied to him about her name, maybe even her mother. He didn't know how much of his conversation with his dad she'd overheard, but he was sure she knew who her mother was now. She said nothing about it, though. She didn't ask questions or prompt him for an explanation. That was more than a little suspicious to him.

And she wasn't even that nice-looking. Sure, in the firelight she looked like a fallen angel, but otherwise she was just a plain Jane. Her eyes didn't sparkle naturally and her red hair wasn't sleek or smooth or cute or anything. Okay, so the shortness of it was kind of cute, but it made her look younger than she really was, which so wasn't a turn on. Leo liked women who were older than him, like Khione, not little girls.

Her personality wasn't winning any gold medals either. He was tough and surly and rarely opened up. Whenever she looked downtrodden and Leo tried to help, she'd snap and him and tell him to do something useful. She never liked closeness or snuggled, except for that first night when she...

Leo shook himself mentally. He wasn't helping his case any by remembering the magic he'd felt that first night when they introduced themselves. Ever since her initial shock to it, Felicia never said anything bad about his fire ability, except maybe that he wasn't using it enough and she was cold. He smiled at a memory of one of their brief one-sided conversations in which Felicia critiqued him angrily on his shortcomings. He liked the way she yelled at him. How her cheeks got that angry flush and her chest rose a little quicker, or the way she started angrily brushing her hair behind her ear to distract herself.

Could he never get his mind away from her? He fantasized about kissing her and stopped dead in his tracks, screaming at the top of his lungs. Felicia started and stumbled backward in fear. He realized that tiny flames were flickering all over him, red-hot in his anger.

"Leo," she said quickly. "You need to talk about your dad before you kill somebody!" By "somebody," Leo knew she meant her. And as much as he thought killing her might put his heart at ease, he also knew he'd never be able to do it. He took a deep breath.

"Don't worry, Augusta," he said bitterly. She hadn't told him her real name, so he wasn't going to let her know he knew it. Common courtesy, "You're safe."

"Quite," said a familiar voice from behind him. Leo whirled around and saw his old babysitter standing regally in her Greek dress, arms hanging at her sides. "Hello, Valdez." The pleasantness in her tone didn't fool him. Leo knew how cunning and untrustworthy Queen of the Heavens could be firsthand.

But he wasn't about to anger an all-powerful goddess by voicing that. He fell to one knee and bowed his head. Felicia was quick to copy him. "Lady Hera," he was proud of the levelness of his voice. "A pleasure, as always."

"Oh, nonsense, Valdez. You were never cut for civilized life. Stand up," Leo hastily did as he was told, stumbling over himself in the process. He'd only talked to the Queen of the Gods as the Queen of the Gods on one occasion, and he still didn't know how to react to it, especially seeming she'd killed his best friend by blowing her cork. Luckily, Piper had been able to bring Jason around, but if she hadn't...

"What do you want, Cow Woman?" he demanded, dropping the formalities abruptly. Hera looked appalled by his lack of tact, and he smiled at her. "Only doing as I was told." He reminded her. She growled.

"You were always smarter than was good for you." She sighed. "Oh well, I don't suppose there's anything else to say than 'Brace yourself.'" Leo raised an eyebrow.

"For what?" Suddenly, the world turned inside out and Leo was lying face down on a medium, cars piled up on either side of them. Ambulances and police sirens echoed in his ears, people being escorted to safety from the ruins of their vehicle. He could only wonder what had happened.

Felicia and he looked around in confusion. While they tried to gage where they were, a cop walked up to them concerned. He clearly didn't like two kids their age stranded in the middle of a huge traffic accident. "Are you alright?" he asked. They both nodded, still dazed by the transportation.

"Where are we?" Leo asked quietly, holding his head. Felicia hit him. "Ow! What?" he demanded. She did that weird thing with her eyes that meant something Leo couldn't understand. He shrugged, mostly because he didn't want to get lectured in front of a cop. He didn't have very good experiences with the police. They usually dragged him into court after he ran away.

The cop looked concerned. "The Caldecott Tunnel, just out of Berkley. Are you feeling alright? Do you have a concussion?" Leo stared at him.

"Who gave you a medical degree?" he demanded irritably. "How would I know if I had a concussion, you little..."

"Leo!" Felicia snapped, stopping him before he called the cop some pretty rude name. He pushed himself to his feet and helped her up, mouthing a "thank you." Her response was a what-would-you-do-without-me look and indignant huff.

Leo's only thought to that was: _I wouldn't be falling madly in love with a woman who can never love me back._

* * *

**Good? Bad? Indifferent? Come on, people. I know Kaitie is not the only one out there reading this! I'm desperate! Give me some input.**

**Another hearty thank you to Kaitie85386 for answering my questions. If it gets you to comment, I'll mention everybody else who gives me good reviews. **

**Okay, so I really like Leo's character, but there is no one currently in Riordan's book that I think will be capable with him. Pretty much every other girl who isn't taken would kill him overnight, and he needs someone to balance himself out. So I came up with the not-so-lovable Felicia. Other characters are going to have their lovey-dovey moments, mostly because that's a lot of the book, but really, Percy/Annabeth are already a set-in-stone going to be together the rest of their lives, I'm fighting not to kill Jason off in this story, and Hazel/Frank are perfect. **

**In case you didn't notice, I deliberately cast Jason in a sour light because I think he is a complete jerk and needs to die. I've fantasized about him being the whole "oath to keep with a final breath" part, but that makes him die a hero.**

**All who agree with my sentiment that Jason Grace needs to die a slow and painful, please say aye. **

**AND REVIEW! **


	18. Chapter 16

**Okay. So this is where the writer appeals to her readers in an effort to get past the cursed writer's block. I need a big ugly to go after Luke and Percy, but I don't want to use one that Riordan has done to death. So PLEASE send in ideas. It has to be Greek or Roman (Kane Chronicles, although awesome, have no part in my Mark of Athena fanfiction.) and it has to make sense. It can't be a rogue demigod or mortal either. And if you found it on the internet, I'll look it up. You don't have to explain it.**

**Also, where do you think Leo and Felicia were holed up? I can't think of a location, but I want to make it somehow important. **

**Review. Stop making me sound desperate, people!**

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: Immortal**

His eyes had that shattered look of a man broken under too much pressure. He was small, no more than maybe seven, as he was being dragged away from the sky. The monsters just hauled him, and he did not resist, did not even appear to know what was going on. Bianca watched as he moved past her and thought that at least he had been able to escape in his own little way.

The Army was getting impatient. They had so many half-bloods that they could bring back from the dead to build and to carry the sky**, **but they could not bring their sanity back. Every day, more and more people snapped, some moving quietly like the boy, others screaming incoherently, thrashing around like a madman. Which, of course, by that time, they were.

Bianca was next in line to carry the sky. It was the first time that particular assignment had been given to her, and she wasn't sure how to react. When the monsters walked her over to the sky and stood next to her, she figured they'd hurt her and force her to carry it if she didn't take it right away. While the transition occurred, the tortured, weak Silena carried it. She was collapsing under the pressure and looking at Bianca with desperate eyes.

Bianca hesitated. She didn't want to take it, but she didn't want Silena to suffer. The monsters were waiting for her to take it, not threatening or anything. Bianca got a wild idea that they couldn't make her.

She closed her eyes and summoned the dead. She'd only done it once before, and it hadn't been deliberate, but she was willing to try. "No," she said quietly, turning to the Cyclops next to her. "You take it."

The monster blinked in confusion. He looked at his partner like he couldn't believe she'd just said no. Bianca motioned politely at the sky, where Silena lumbered desperately under it. The monster shook its head and jerked its head at it. Bianca smiled. "I don't want to." She said nicely. Silena stared at her, sweat pouring down her face.

The monster was about to push her when his partner stopped him and motioned that another demigod take it. Michael's cuffs were unlocked and he watched Bianca. She grinned madly. "They can't force us to carry the sky!" she shouted triumphantly. The others stared at her in silence for a moment, and the butt of a sword slammed into her temple, knocking her down. But she'd planted the idea already. It was percolating in her fellow half-bloods' minds, swimming around while they contemplated their guards with a cold intensity.

They all exchanged looks while Bianca pushed herself to her feet. Michael shrugged off her guard and glowered at him victoriously. The monsters looked dumbfounded.

Then the riot broke out.

Some demigods were better trained than others. Many were killed in the vicious fighting that ensued, but several woke up immediately after and ran to the aid of their friends. The monsters kept reassembling themselves, and what followed was endless bloodshed. Silena collapsed from the weight of the sky, dead, and one of the monsters lunged toward it in order to stop heaven and earth from meeting. Silena stirred, back to life again, and looked up, smiling. Bianca helped her away from the fighting.

Death was impossible. It would soon have to come back. It would have to be possible eventually, but for now it was giving them the time they needed to fight back. And some of the monsters didn't return. Some actually went to Tartarus. Bianca could only hope that eventually they'd all be sent away for good.

"Nico!" She shouted her brother's name at the top of her lungs and charged into the fighting before being cut down by machine gun fire.

She was riddled with holes while the bullets ran through her body. She fell to the ground, dead, and a lot of time passed, but she woke up and rejoined the battle.

She must have died a hundred times. It never held. She was worse than invincible. She could never, ever die. For all intents and purposes, Bianca and all of her friends were immortal.

* * *

Jupiter was ranting again.

Neptune suppressed a yawn while he tried to be attentive during one of his brother's usual, long drawn-out and boring lectures, but it was harder than a half-blood's attempt to stay awake in a history class.

He shifted uncomfortably in his fisherman's seat and his brother trailed off. "Oh yes, quite, brother. You make a valid point." He said quickly, trying to conceal his confusion. Jupiter focused his electric on his brother, who met them with his powerful green.

"I wasn't done, Neptune." He said stiffly. Neptune sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. He had no desire to stick around while his brother droned about unimportant and trivial matters. He had a daughter to check on.

He stood and stretched, his trident appearing in his hand at his silent request. Jupiter looked taken aback. "Excuse me, brother. I have important matters to tend to." The uproar in the throne gave Neptune a headache, but he ignored it. They were immortal. They'd get over it.

He spotted his bride, Salacia, leaning against the wall looking annoyed. "Neptune, dear," she said lustily. "Can we return to the palace? This place is so dull."

"Soon, love," he said falsely. He had no true love for Salacia. Not anymore. When you lived for forever, remaining truly faithful to any single individual was quite a difficult thing to do. That is of course, why he sired other children. After being with her for some three millennia, Neptune had discovered everything there was to know about his wife. He needed adventure. The sea could not be restrained. "Soon, but I must handle some business before we depart." He glanced back when he heard his brother bellow his name in anger and hurried away, leaving his wife to contend with Jupiter.

There was a small pool hidden from the others. Only Neptune knew of its existence, not even his Greek counterpart, Poseidon, which was a tricky matter. He stared into its depths and saw the image of his young daughter dancing in their depths. She was crying, dressed completely in black while a blonde boy held her. Neptune felt a surge of protectiveness, but then remembered Mercury's loss a few days ago. Hermes' son, Connor Stoll, had been killed in a tragic accident a few days ago.

Samantha Fisher was a brave, strong girl, worthy of his name. He was proud of her, even more so than he was of his older offspring, Percy Jackson.

He sighed when he thought of his only living son. He had another daughter, eighty years old now, that had escaped the notice of his vengeful brothers during World War II. She did not know he was in fact her father.

His son appeared on the surface of the water. His black hair, like his father's, was unruly, and his green eyes focused on the ground. It was close to midnight in California, and he had the Brights to keep the road visible. He drove slowly, watching ahead, and Neptune realized it was raining. He growled and waved his hand. Ceres or Jupiter would yell at him later, no doubt, for trespassing across their domain, but he didn't care. Percy looked confused at the sudden stop of the downpour, probably unaware it had been one of the small favors his father had done him over the years.

Although he sometimes felt more pride toward Samantha because of what she'd been through, he couldn't help but love his son unconditionally. He was brave, selfless, and incredibly powerful. Not to mention his uncharacteristic compassion for one of Neptune's children. The sea was cold, not gentle. And when it was gentle, it was containing a rage boiling beneath the surface. Neptune never knew what kind of inner turmoil Perseus contained, but he was well aware of his attempted suicide. Although the act had pained Poseidon most of all, all of the gods, Greek and Roman, felt something at the boy's pain. But Neptune knew that was only a taste of how hard it was for him to keep living.

He thought he had lost the only woman he loved. He was going on a quest with a man who he couldn't trust, and he had just found out that his cousin had started the war with the Titans and Gaea. He couldn't be more confused or devastated, and yet he held it in. He held everything in. People sometimes called his son weak, a disappointment. Although he was nothing like Theseus, Percy was anything but weak. Sometimes, he was stronger than was healthy.

Percy started to doze off and woke up Luke. The son of Hermes volunteered to take the car. "Wait," Percy muttered drowsily. "You don't have your license." Luke laughed.

"Neither do you," he pointed out. Percy nodded off and shrugged, pulling off to the side of the freeway so Luke could take over.

While the son of Hermes pulled back out into traffic, Neptune watched his son slowly fall asleep, thinking how much he loved him.

But immortality limited everything except life. Eventually, Neptune and Poseidon would forget their son, stop loving him, ignore him while he withered and died. One day, they might look back and grunt that he had been a good son. But even Theseus, who had been their pride and joy, was no more than a name now and only because the myths reminded them. They could not recall his face, his personality. They demanded upon legend to supply them with that.

Neptune wondered how long it would take for Percy to become nothing more than a legend. That was the fate for all heroes, unfortunately. While they lived in their prime, they were famous, but eventually they faded from the conscious and fell into the pages of history. No one would remember Percy Jackson soon, just like he hadn't remembered them.

So Neptune stared at his sleeping son and basked in his love for him, because it couldn't last. He was immortal.

* * *

**I have suddenly reached a conclusion. Gods are jerks. Sorry, but you kind of have to be after for all that time. Nobody even knows they exist! You'd be bitter too. **

**I had to wonder how Neptune acted, so I came up with something in between Zeus and Poseidon, mostly because he's more formal than his easygoing counterpart. And yes, Percy has two sisters. One's kind of going to croak soon, but still. **

**Don't know how I'm going to incorporate Sam further into the storyline. Got any ideas?**

**Yes, I am bribing you with the opportunity to have direct involvement with my plotline is you give me reviews. I am doing nothing more for this fanfiction until I get somebody else besides Kaitie85386 commenting. Remember, monster after Luke and Percy, Leo and Felicia cave location. Sam application. Got it? I will continue reminding you. **

**And if you think the character of Sam is cool, tell me. Because I have an alternate reality type story with her in it that I could start posting on Fanfiction.**

**So, again, freaking review!**


	19. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen: Young**

Luke winded the narrow freeway carefully, afraid the traction wasn't good enough and the car would get away from him. He hadn't driven a car in years, and he was sorely out of practice, but he couldn't very well tell that to the determined and exhausted Percy Jackson now snoozing obliviously in the passenger seat.

Luke glanced over at him and saw he was snoring on his hand, a thin line of drool falling from his open mouth. Luke chuckled deep in his throat, but contained his laughter. Percy needed the sleep. Who cared how he got it?

The closer they got to Mount Othrys, the more Luke started wondering if he'd done the right thing. Percy seemed to trust him pretty well, but the problem was, Luke didn't trust himself. He'd prided himself, before joining Kronos, on his will-power and loyalty. But that loyalty had shattered like glass the moment he was offered a chance at revenge. He jumped at the chance that a starving wolf after a piece of meat, and the end result had cost too many lives.

Sure, he'd done the right thing in the end, but what was one good deed in a storm of ill? Annabeth, the one person he swore to never hurt or betray, had been hit worst of all by his treachery. And it had taken her half dead form on the ground, bleeding and broken, for him to see his faults. What if he didn't get that next time? What if he didn't stop?

The freeway was mostly vacant save for one or two cars on the road. Luke could see the cloudy peak of Mount Tam in the distance, swirling with a sinister magic that only the Titans possessed. He knew that magic first hand. He had, after all, become the host for the most powerful Titan of all.

Luke's stomach rumbled, and he groaned. Neither he nor Percy was going to be any good in a fight if they were starving to death. He thought about when he's pulled into the truck stop before, and how they should have ordered something then. It also occurred to him that they might not have the money. It didn't matter. He pulled into the stop behind a semi and parked in front of the restaurant. There was a refueling station right there too, and Luke checked the gas. Well, wasn't that handy. They would have been dead in the water in a few minutes anyway.

"Percy," he muttered. "Percy, wake up!" He shook his partner in crime, and Percy jerked awake, alert with his hand in his pocket, pulling out Riptide.

"Back up or I'll..." Percy realized he was still safe in the car and shook his head. He placed the ballpoint pen back in his pocket and held his forehead like it hurt. He looked at Luke, and then the stopped car. "Need me to take over?" he asked groggily. Luke knew that he did not want a tired son of Poseidon driving him to his battles, no matter what he offered.

"No. Food," Percy looked up at the restaurant and his face got a wistful look to it. Luke heard his stomach rumble. Percy looked down at his noisy intestines and growled.

"Shut up, you." He told himself, which was a little weird. Then Percy unlocked the car door and got out.

Luke looked up at the restaurant sign and frowned as he struggled to decipher the cursive script. He got out as well, still squinting at it, and shut his door loudly. Percy was leaning against the hood, apparently struggling as much as he was. "Figured out what it says yet?" Luke asked, rubbing his temples from the headache building from strain.

"Haven't got a clue," Percy sighed, defeated. "Sometimes being a half-blood isn't the coolest thing in the world, huh?" Luke laughed and shook his head. "Come on," Percy told him, pushing off the hood and starting for the stop. "Let's eat."

Now that he was closer to the sign, Luke could make out more of the stupid name. "The Babysitter."

Luke frowned. Talk about a weird name for a restaurant. Did it offer childcare services for truckers with small kids too or something? He shook his head. Percy glanced up at it and stopped. "What?" Luke demanded, slamming into him. Percy stumbled forward, studying the sign suspiciously. "It's not like it's a monster." Luke told him. Percy glanced over his shoulder at him, and Luke realized how stupid that sounded. You could have the most likable, amiable and oldest woman in the world offer you cookies, and because you're demigod, those cookies could be poisonous. Or the old woman would grow claws and sharp teeth and decide you looked like you'd taste good with ketchup.

Percy turned back to the sign and didn't budge. He had the same look on his face that Luke had sometimes seen on Annabeth when she was trying to figure something out that she couldn't remember the steps to. "Something Annabeth said," he muttered. Luke sighed. Of course it was something Annabeth said. It was always something Annabeth said. That girl was like a drug.

"Look, there isn't another stop for miles, and I don't know about you, but..." Percy stomach growled again and Luke's lips curled up into a sly smile. "No, I _do_ know about you. You're hungry, and so am I. One little pancake couldn't hurt." Percy's will-power was starting to crumble. Despite his reserves about trusting a restaurant called "The Babysitter," Percy really was hungry.

"One pancake," he echoed wistfully. Luke grinned. "You're right. It couldn't be that bad."

They opened the door and a bell rang. All eyes instantly turned to them. The restaurant, unsurprisingly, wasn't very busy. A few smelly, oily truck drivers hiding in their respective corners reading newspapers or chatting quietly at the bar. Of course, when Luke and Percy stepped in, they weren't chatting. They were staring intently at them. And was it Luke, or did they look hungry.

They shouldn't have looked hungry because they were all stuffing their faces with hamburgers or steaks. One of them, a particularly revolting individual missing half his teeth, was sawing away at his hamburger patty, which was squeezing out pretty red blood still. Luke scoffed. He hated rare meat.

There were only three very pretty waitresses running around taking orders. One of them hurried forward to greet Luke and Percy, but her smile seemed a little forced. Luke couldn't really expect anything more. She could have been working an all-nighter for all he knew.

But Percy looked unsure. He eyed their waitress warily, like he thought _she_ was a monster. Luke knew that pretty much anyone could be a she-demon, but this girl just looked tired and pretty. There wasn't anything threatening about her, and she certainly wasn't hiding any weapons in that tight plaid uniform.

"Hello," she chirped cheerily. "How can I help you?" She was looking directly at Percy, who definitely wasn't appreciating the stare. That was a bit hypocritical of him, though. It wasn't like she'd done anything, and he was glowering at her pretty darkly.

Percy didn't answer, so Luke jumped in. "We just want a bite to eat, then we'll be out of your hair." Percy shot a repulsed look at him. Luke didn't understand why he was acting so adversely.

The waitress nodded happily and started to lead them toward a booth, but before Luke could follow her, Percy grabbed Luke's arm, hard.

He had to suppress a yelp of pain. He was sick and tired of Percy's uncharacteristic behavior. He whipped around. "What is wrong with you? Look, I'm sorry I woke you up, but..."

"That isn't it." Percy hissed. One of the truckers stared at them, but Percy shot him one of his frightening looks, and he returned to his newspaper. "Look around, Luke. Does this seem normal to you?" Luke looked around and shrugged.

"I don't see anything abnormal, if that's what you mean." He told him, shaking his head at Percy's paranoia.

"Luke, sweetie, are you coming?" The waitress asked politely. Luke turned and smiled.

"Yeah, hold on a moment." Percy held his head and shook it disappointedly. "What now?" Luke hated the fact that he sounded like a five year old, especially seeming Percy was younger than him, but the son of Poseidon was wearing on his last nerve.

"You're flirting with a monster."

Luke couldn't believe Percy had had the gall to say that. He wanted to punch him, but restrained himself, breathing deeply. "She's...I'm..." Percy waved his comment aside and looked around.

"What would you say to take-out? I saw a McDonalds nearby." Percy told him finally, turning back to the door and walking out. Luke was caught between a rock and a hard place. He really wanted that pancake.

But before Percy could reach the door, a twenty-something woman stepped in front of it. She wore an apron and her hair was tied back in a sloppy bun. She had warm motherly eyes, and when she smiled, they twinkled.

"Hello, child," she said sweetly. "How old are you?" Percy backed up awkwardly and bumped into a table.

Luke realized that however sweet she might look, this woman was not to be reckoned with. He didn't know who she was, but he was pretty sure she wasn't anyone good.

"Sixteen," Percy told her quickly. She smiled.

"My son was far younger than you when he passed. My daughter as well. But you are still very young. So are you," she said the last to Luke, who felt his skin crawl. "Just children, really. Not yet used to the cruelty of the world." She sounded so sad and helpless, her features aged by several years. Luke felt sympathetic, but he backed away from her. He got the same vibe from her as he did empousa. Ruthless, unpredictable, hungry for flesh. "Yes, just children. I do so like children."

She moved away from the door and Percy and Luke ran toward it, but it was locked. "Don't try to get out, my dears. I so rarely have the company of young men. And when I do, it is a rare pleasure." She pulled two chairs out from the bar and motioned that Luke and Percy sit in them. Neither did.

Luke's skin continued to crawl while he struggled to remember who she was from mythology. But his memory failed him. Her obsession with children fit the bill for some she-demon she couldn't recall, but for the life of him, his mind was blank.

That's he realized the waitress he'd been flirt...talking to earlier had transformed into the fiery haired empousa he knew and feared. He realized she was somehow distorting his thoughts, making it hard for him to think.

He tried to force her from his mind, but she was in too deep. He blinked, but she was still there, like a cloud over his head. Percy seemed to be a little clearer, but he was moving sluggishly too.

The other waitresses had also transformed into their hideous faces and fiery hair. They moved toward them. The other monsters left through the back, but neither Luke nor Percy could follow, each with an empousai breathing down their necks.

Luke heard the soft voice of a young girl. He looked down and saw a little four year old kid waddle out from the back. "Auntie Lamia," she yawned sleepily. "Do I have a big brother?" Her eyes widened when she saw Luke, and even more when they settled on Percy. "_Two _big brothers." She sounded overjoyed and started jumping up and down.

Luke stared at her "Auntie" in horror. Percy did the same. They'd both realized who she was.

They worked like a team. Percy drew Riptide and threw himself at her, attempted to cut off her head, but she ducked before he could. She struck out with her claws, growing from her fingers by the second. Percy ducked and rolled aside.

Luke sprinted toward the little girl and picked her up football style, running back away from the demon and glowering hatefully. The little girl laughed like it was all good fun, unaware of how close she had just come to being eaten. Literally.

Luke heard commotion from where the kitchen was, and a bunch of little kids even younger than the little girl tucked under his arm, all wearing that innocent expression of a child. Lamia turned to them and held out her arms. "Children!" she cried ecstatically, and they all cheered, running toward their supposed aunt.

Percy stepped between her and the kids, blood in his eye. "How long have you held these kids captive? They're kindergarteners!" Lamia's smile became slightly twisted.

"Oh, only a little longer than Emily." Apparently responding to the sound of her name, the little girl in Luke's arm giggled and looked up at her "big brother." Her eyes were large and brown and bright. She had no idea she'd been kidnapped. "She's my newest. I try not to find them any older than eight. By then they're already too tainted by the evils of the world. But you are still young. You'll have more meat on your bones than the others." Percy looked disgusted, and rightfully so.

"You eat little kids!" he cried. "How sick can you get?"

"Hera did this to me!" Lamia wailed, throwing up her arms and letting fake tears trail down her cheeks. "She took my children from me all because of her jealousy! My poor, poor children. And yet you run to protect the gods!" Lamia sounded so distraught and angry, Luke felt sorry for her. "They are evil! Already those three upstarts freed that witch from her prison, but now you travel to stop the Army!"

Luke didn't know what she was talking about with the three upstarts, but Percy's expression hardened. "Well, you don't have to worry about 'those three upstarts' anymore. They're dead." Lamia laughed.

"Hardly. They are still young. They live on." Then Lamia's face turned cold. "Including the one who captured your heart. Young love gives certain tanginess to the meat, you know. Quite tasty,"

"You're disgusting!" Percy roared, throwing a chair in between him and the monster. Luke couldn't help him. He was too busy keeping the naive girl in his arms from wiggling free. "And besides. You like _young_ children. The empousa are the ones that go for boys my age." Lamia laughed.

"The empousa are my daughters, fool! As is the fearsome Scylla, whom you have faced." Percy's face was overshadowed by the memory. Luke could tell it wasn't pleasant. "I have mothered these creatures, nurtured them in the knowledge that youth is precious and must be maintained. You children are so disgusting nowadays! You don't appreciate the life you have, and when I take it away, you hardly care more than that it hurts! You don't deserve to live!"

Lamia was starting to transform. Waist up, she looked like she had before, complete with the apron, but her lower body was turning serpentine, coiling around an overturned chair. She slithered closer to Percy, and the children screamed, running for chairs and under tables.

"No!" she cried. "Children, come back! I won't hurt you!" she wailed. The kids whimpered under they hiding places, shaking from fear. Emily broke free from Luke and ran for cover as well. Okay, now he could fight.

He drew his sword and moved to back Percy up, but the three empousa blocked his path. He glowered. This was going to get ugly.

All at once, the three of them lunged. Luke blocked the first three slashes, but the third's, his flirtatious waitress, sunk into his upper right and he cried out. He wasn't used to injuries, and this one caught him off-guard. He stumbled, and the she-demons flew through the air and tackled him to the ground. He called out and heard Percy move to help him, but the following crash told him help wasn't coming.

Through the mass of legs and arms and teeth and claws, Luke saw Percy, unconscious and leaning against the bar. Riptide lay limply at his side, and to Luke's horror, Lamia picked it up. She laughed. "Move, my daughters, offspring of Hecate. Let this blade shed the blade of our treacherous visitor." So he was the one they had been after all along. Lamia hadn't known anything about Percy, but that was why the empousai knew his name. He had been expected.

Lamia slithered over to him. She licked her lips. "You will taste the cold steel one more, son of Hermes. And this time, you shall not re..." Lamia was cut off midsentence because Emily had suddenly appeared, flying through the air like and cat and knocking her to the ground. Emily was doing a pretty good job of racking her hands across Lamia's face, and the monster wailed in pain.

Luke took advantage of the delay and looked around desperately for his sword. Where was that thing? The empousa were moving on him again, and he was unarmed. He groped around for his weapon but found nothing but flat ground. He growled before being forced to roll away because an empousai was about to land on top of him.

He kicked her, and she screamed. "Get away from me, wretch!" he yelled. He had bad experience with her kind and didn't want to have any more contact with them.

Her sisters moved quickly, limping toward faster than should've been possibly with their metal leg. He dodged one, hit the other, and finally spotted his sword.

Underneath Lamia's snake tail.

She smiled. "I do so prefer to kill younger ones. You have grown too much. But I will not drink your blood. My patron has promised me hundreds of young children for my troubles! I will avenge the deaths of my poor daughter and son. Hera will not go unpunished!"

She raised the sword and started to bring it down, but suddenly, Emily was there again and snatched the Luke's sword from underneath her.

Like a cat, the five year old flew through the air, climbing up her back, and thrust her sword through Lamia's chest. The babysitter burst into golden dust, and Luke was alive.

Emily looked at him innocently, and he saw something in her eyes. "Do you know your father?" he asked her. She shook her head.

"Daddy was a traveler. He died on an airplane." She looked sad about that, but Luke studied her intently. He recognized that glint in the eyes, the mischievous smile that spread across her face when she thought she had an older brother. He'd seen it before, in other Hermes campers.

"Remember what you said about me being an older brother?" Emily nodded energetically, smiling wide. "I think you might have been right."

Chiron sat back in his wheelchair silently.

There was a mirror hung on the wall opposite him, and he stared at it, not out of vanity, but mostly because it reminded him of younger years. The years where he trained Hercules and Theseus and the brave heroes of old. Before the Titan War took his youth from him.

It started in World War II. The years began to show. And it only got worse as time went on. The years of stress and worry had finally sunk in, and now age was the outcome.

Chiron rolled over to the window and watched his charges outside, none of them as happy as they used to be. No one smiled, or laughed, or even spoke. They all did their activities wordlessly and moved on, because they knew that very soon, they too would be robbed of their youth.

Death was both freeing and restraining. For those left behind, it left deep wrinkles and scars as memorial for those who no longer were. For the dead, it gave them peace, but also froze expressions onto their rotting faces for time to ravish. Some good, some bad, but the dead all eventually fade from memory.

Chiron remembered his solemn oath years ago, when he swore that as long as he lived, he would train demigods. But Chiron was tiring. He no longer had as much energy as he once did. Time was draining him of the last stores of youth he still had left. And soon, Chiron would no longer be able to train the children of the gods.

He knew what that meant of course. If his teaching certificate expired, so did he. It had occurred to him once or twice before that he had outlived his usefulness, but not like this. Sadly, there was a possibility that whichever this war went, Chiron would not be required.

Here he was an integral part in the half-blood education. But, if Gaea won and half-bloods were destroyed, he would have no one to train. But if they won and Gaea was lulled back to sleep, Camp Half-Blood could very well assimilate with Camp Jupiter, therefore negating the purpose for him being there.

Chiron could not deny the feeling the air that something big was changing, bigger even than the camps uniting. Something was stirring, something old and ancient, and very, very dangerous. Something even Chiron didn't know or understand.

And he was positive that it was going to kill him.

**Thanks, DeadAA, for giving me Lamia. After I looked her up, I thought she'd be pretty good. Sorry if the chapters awkward. It's late, and I'm kind of cranking these out. Thanks loads.**

**Once again, thanks to Kaitie for reviewing. I'm starting to seriously love you, you know. And the location for Leo and Felicia is still open, as well as the application for Sam in the story. **

**Please review. Here are the questions I would like answered about my writing, and I'm sorry Kaitie, but not from you.**

**How is my character development and interaction?**

**Is my sentence fluency understandable and enticing?**

**Are my battle scenes at least okay, because I kind of struggle with those?**

**Is my conveyance of emotion even remotely moving?**

**What do you think needs improvement in my writing? Don't be afraid to be a little harsh. I don't appreciate condescending insults, but rough critique is perfectly fine. And I really won't be offended no matter what you say.**

**Remember, I need suggestions and critique. I am an author, people. Help me out a little!**

**One more thing. Should I post a Half-Blood Quip next, or continue with the story. Up for debate!**

**I realize I just said one more thing, but that's a trick I learned from a teacher of mine. It keeps people reading. Anyhow, I might be inactive for a while, because I have my own story that I'm working on, and I need to get my priorities straight and finish that before I'm an old maid!**


	20. Chapter 18

**Second POV for this one is kind of sick and twisted, just so you know. And that death is temporary. So if you want to stop then, feel free, I'll give you an overview in the next chapter. But that individual is important in the future, just to let you know. And read the bold at the bottom too please, for this chapter, even if you don't read the 2****nd**** POV.**

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Funeral**

Annabeth was fuming.

She didn't care how noble his intentions had been, Nico had betrayed her on the deepest level. She'd always viewed the younger boy as a kind of little brother, and thus was incredibly protective of him. But he was an adventurous spirit and she had never wanted to intrude, so she laid back and let him explore. She didn't even worry when he was gone for long stretches of time...too much. And the only thing she'd expected in return was honesty and integrity.

Apparently Nico was incapable of such values.

He had lied to everyone at Camp Half-Blood, making up ludicrous excuses for where he had been and dodging questions. Annabeth never thought anything of it, passing it off to his secretive loner personality and nothing more. But now she discovered Nico's true reason for his behavior.

He'd lied to the Romans.

The only thing Annabeth could give him was that he was a very adept liar. She hadn't suspected for one moment that anything he was saying could be untrue and a half-truth. He always maintained a pretty cool and collected exterior, never giving and rise or indications of anxiety. Lack of sleep, perhaps, but that was to be expected. Nico loved the nightlife but was always busy in the morning. She never attributed it to his double lives.

It had taken the combined efforts of Annabeth, Piper, Jason, the familiar leader Reyna, and several armed Romans to coax his confession out of him. But once the truth was out, it was all Annabeth could do not to rip out his throat.

And he kept glancing at Hazel, his Roman sister, during the whole time, like he was gaging her reaction. All Annabeth ever saw on her face was hurt and anger. When Nico finished, she walked up to him, breathing heavy, and slapped him across the face, breaking into tears and collapsing into her boyfriend's arms, Frank.

The bewildered expression on Nico's face wasn't capable of being misread. Annabeth didn't know what response he had expected, but this wasn't it. The drunken kid, who was apparently strung out on red Kool-Aid, spat at his feet, although Annabeth wasn't sure if that was a conscious decision. It brought it home to Nico, though, how bowed his head in shame while the listened filed off, clearly disgusted. When he looked back up, Annabeth was still standing in front of him, leaning against a staff she'd bought from the small Roman market in New Rome. She had been too tired to appreciate the architecture at the time, but she made a mental note to return sometime she felt better.

Nico grimaced and looked hopeful. Annabeth shook her head, and his head fell again. She saw tears well in the corners of his eyes. "What were you thinking, Nico?" she asked. She didn't try to conceal her disappointment.

Nico looked up at her apprehensively, as if waiting for the outburst and lecture. It never came. "Aren't you mad?" he asked carefully. Annabeth laughed. It was a dry, morbid laugh that reflected her pain and grief. She didn't have the strength to be angry anymore. It required too much energy.

"No, Nico," she told him. "I'm not mad. I just thought I could trust you." She closed her eyes and sighed. "Even daughters of Athena can be wrong, I suppose."

She limped away then, leaving Nico to reflect on what he had done to his friend and to the Greco-Roman dynamic. If the two camps could not work together, everything was lost. And because of Nico's lies, there was a possibility the Romans would never trust them.

Her staff was necessary if she was to maintain her independence in her weak state, but it was annoying. It was forever getting caught on roots or sinking into the ground. She had to move even slower than she had to with that chunk of wood, but she didn't have a choice. She heard something about the infirmary offering ambrosia and nectar to the visiting Greeks and decided it couldn't hurt to meet some healers.

The infirmary was next to the Mess Hall, which was a fair ways from where she'd been talking to Nico. Normally, the trip would have been no problem, but as hard as it was for her to stay upright, it was like walking the distance between the coasts without breaks. By the time she reached the simple wooden door and stumbled through, even her staff couldn't support her anymore and she collapsed onto the ground.

Her vision blurred and she didn't see who helped her onto a bed. All she knew was being lifted up from the armpits, walked over a few feet, and rested down while a cool washcloth dabbed her forehead. She closed her eyes, relief flooding her system at the realization that Annabeth finally got to rest.

While her doter wet the washcloth, she sat up a little and surveyed the room. The redheaded girl tried to get her to lie back down, but she resisted. She wanted to see how her friends were.

Annabeth imagined the prisoners of Auschwitz looked like this after the US broke into the concentration camps and freed them. Healers drifted from bed to bed, feeding the ill and dying, but they resisted. Jason and a few others from his group were probably doing the best, decently fed and rested, but the other groups who had stumbled across Camp Jupiter by pure accident weren't doing as well.

They weren't just skinny. They were bone-thin. They lack of color in their cheeks suggested severe malnourishment, and they couldn't speak because their throats were so dry. Among their number was Catherine Townie, another daughter of Athena like Annabeth, who was very near death. Three healers surrounded her, trying to bring her around, but she wasn't responding. Annabeth watched while one pumped furiously at her chest and tried to breathe life back into her. Nectar tickled down her cheek and the ambrosia they shoved into her mouth was chewed. Nothing they did could bring her back.

Eventually, one of the healers checked her wrist for a pulse. Several seconds passed, in which time they waited for some thrumming indicating life, but a collective depressed sigh told Annabeth that she had just lost a sibling.

She realized tears were falling down her cheeks as they moved away from the pale body. They moved her onto a stretcher and few minutes later, her chalk white hand hanging off the side limply. There was no arguing that she was dead.

Annabeth fell back onto the bed, staring up at the white ceiling while her healer forced ambrosia down her throat and made her chew it. Gradually, her strength began to return, and she wanted to test her legs out to see how she stood, but the redhead flat refused to let her, and every time Annabeth tried to sit up, she pushed her back down. Eventually, the daughter of Athena was forced to give up and let herself be coddled.

Annabeth felt numb all over. There was some tingling in her limbs again, now that her strength was slowly coming back, but mostly she couldn't really feel where she was. She recognized the sensation of lying down on a soft bed, but most of her pain and hunger had faded away in her trauma and shock. Annabeth blinked several times when it occurred to her that she could develop Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome from her ordeal.

Everyone in that room could. They'd all lost someone now, they'd all witnessed death and war and bloodshed. Everyone on that ship, aside from Leo and Piper, had fought in the Titan War. Watching the ship blow up in midair had just added to the horror of their struggles. The others must have faced even more monsters than Annabeth and Piper due simply to the volume of individuals in their groups. They were all hungry and weak and tired, but Annabeth felt as if her eyelids had been sown open. She couldn't sleep, couldn't rest, could hardly sit still long enough for her healers to finish treating her wounds. "Stay put," She was ordered as the redhead drifted off to tend to the others.

Annabeth wanted to lie still forever and run around the camp perimeter fifty times. Her emotions were so jumbled and conflicted even she couldn't make sense of it all. No one ever could when she got like this, except for..."Percy!" Annabeth yelled, sitting bolt upright. A healer rushed over and started trying to calm her down, but Annabeth kept screaming her boyfriend's name over and over. "He has to remember me!" she screamed hysterically, attracting the room's attention. "If you just let me see him..."

"Praetor Jackson left several hours ago. I'm sorry, but you're too late." Annabeth didn't even notice the healer refer to him as "praetor." All she understood was that her boyfriend wasn't there.

"He's gone?" she echoed. Her voice sounded weak even to her. The healer nodded empathetically and laid her back down. Annabeth didn't wrestle this time. She let him fluff her pillows and straighten her blankets fussily before running off to a groaning patient.

Annabeth could feel the revitalizing effects of the ambrosia squares and nectar setting in, healing her wounds and giving her the strength that she'd lost. But the even the godly food couldn't heal the pain she felt inside.

Percy was gone, possibly forever. There was a chance Annabeth would never see her boyfriend again, and it ripped her still-beating heart from her chest. Up until that moment, the expression heartache had never sense to Annabeth. The heart was just an organ inside your ribs the size of your fist that pumped blood through your body. It didn't understand pain. But Annabeth didn't feel a throbbing the general vicinity of her heart, or even directly over it. It felt like every heartbeat killed her again and again.

She missed Percy.

She felt the weight distribution on the bed shift and knew someone had sat down next to her. It took her several moments to gather the willpower to turn and look at them. Hey stormy grey eyes met the disjointed stained glass hues of her visitor. Piper's hair was tied back in some kind of bun with little hair sticking out everywhere. Her face wasn't as bony or cut as it had been. There were some white marks and a couple fresh slices on her face, but the color had returned and she'd clearly been eating, because there was a natural flush to them. Her face wrinkled up when she smiled, but it didn't mar her beauty.

"Hey, Annabeth," she said. "How are you feeling?" For a moment, Annabeth just stared at Piper. Why would anyone ask such a thing? Annabeth had lost everything, and she had the nerve to ask if she was alright.

"No," Annabeth said quietly, suppressing tears.

"It's about Percy, isn't it?" Annabeth growled her lip curling into a snarl as she glowered at the ever-perceptive Piper, who recoiled slightly under her intense gaze. "He's not here, is he?" Annabeth shook her head and cried.

Suddenly, the door opened and Jason Grace stepped in. He usually didn't shrink when people paid attention to him, but he looked nervous as he looked over the patients and healers in the infirmary, swallowing. "There's funeral service being held in the Field of Mars for the dead. Greek and Roman," he added, his voice cracking. "Uh...loved ones are asked to come and burn their shrouds." With that, Jason left, clearly not wanting to answer questions or say more.

Annabeth knew why he didn't want people watching him. He was afraid that any moment the gravity of his loss and Leo's death would hit him and he'd fall apart. As a leader, that was not something Jason could afford. Fragility was not viewed as a valuable asset when you led people to war. And it simply wasn't fair. At that moment, Annabeth felt it too, just not as much. She was senior camper, at Camp Half-Blood as well as the survivors from the Argo II. Tears were frowned upon, and it was very rare that she cried. But when they did, they stung her cheeks like trails of fire and burned her eyes, making her regret them.

Percy had always had it worse than her. He was a son of Poseidon and therefore seen as a natural hero. He was seen as a modern day Theseus, and no one had given him any elbow room to vent his anger or let go of his stress. He claimed to have come to terms with the deaths of his friends and did a pretty good job of hiding the inner turmoil, but Annabeth could see the tortured look in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking. The things Percy felt he only shared with himself, and sometimes not even that.

Remembering Percy make her heat hurt even more. It made her want to curl up in a ball and hide away forever, never coming back out until Percy Jackson kissed her awake. But Annabeth Chase was not weak, and she would not hide or cower until her problems went away. She would make her problems go away.

She was still shaking a little, but she managed to stand as long as she took it slow. First sitting upright, then throwing her feet off the bed, and finally standing. Her footsteps were slower and smaller than she would have liked, but they were steady and she didn't need a staff to keep her on her feet. Piper stayed loyally by her side, but Annabeth could see how badly she wanted to meet Jason at Leo's shroud and burn it. Annabeth could see the fresh grief burning in her eyes.

Piper looked guilty sometimes too, but Annabeth didn't understand why. She was the one that took Leo's parachute and abandoned ship instead of him. It was her fault he was dead. But Piper never listened to her apologies, never gave her the forgiveness she so desperately needed. According to Piper, there was nothing to forgive.

But Jason hated her. He clearly blamed her for Leo's death and would not forgive her. She tried to meet his eyes, but he kept looking anywhere but, and when her and Piper met him by Leo's shroud, he focused on Piper and pretended Annabeth wasn't there.

Leo's and Nyssa's shrouds were incredibly similar. Both were made of chain-link, light and moveable. Because of the mercy of the Fates, they would burn. They lit Nyssa's first, because her and Leo had been the only Hephaestus children onboard. The maximum allowed on the Argo was two from each cabin. Anymore and they'd be overcrowded. So Nyssa and Leo were the only delegates from Hephaestus, and they were dead.

Nyssa's shroud was simply. It was just the metal with a hammer painted on it, but lighting it ablaze was hard. All three of them, Jason, Piper, and Annabeth, grabbed the torch and touched it gently to her memorial, and it went up in smoke, mingling with the others and dissipating into the wind.

Leo's was harder to burn. The fire was far more symbolic for him because he had been a fire user, and Jason couldn't even touch the torch without choking up. Leo's shroud was beautiful and had been painstakingly assembled and painted by all the survivors. Annabeth hadn't done much but paint a piece of Festus' head, but that act alone had reduced her to tears.

Leo had been such a joy to be around. His constant smile and endless string of jokes, although not always appropriate, were always appreciated. He lightened the mood no matter how dire the straits, but he could always buckle down and get to work when the time called for it. He had a sense of duty few had, and an even stronger sense of friendship. For a son of Hephaestus, Leo really got people. "Some people are like machines," he'd explained one time. "Once you know the mechanics, you can do anything." He'd meant it as a joke, but he had been right.

The Argo II was the first to burn, the fire eating away at the beautiful paint. Annabeth cried freely, and Jason was allowed to shed a few tears too, as Leo's memory went up in smoke. Soon, all seventeen shrouds were burning in the night, lighting up the faces of the gathering crowd.

Annabeth turned and saw that several people had brought candles for a vigil. Her eyes swelled with even more tears and she looked around to bury her face in Percy's shirt, but he, of course, wasn't there. That only made her cry harder.

Somewhere way off in the distance, she saw another shroud burning, but she couldn't imagine who it was. "Octavian," Jason said bitterly. "He was a traitor, but the First Cohort insisted he have a funeral. Reyna told them they wouldn't defile the rest of the ceremony with his stench." He looked disgusted, and rightfully so. Octavian had been a trusted member of Camp Jupiter, she was told, before he changed sides and started working for Gaea. Why exactly he did it was still a mystery, but Annabeth was pretty sure it was the power kick.

Annabeth was going to find a place to sleep for the night when she saw two demigods, a girl and a familiar looking guy, sloshing against the river into Camp Jupiter, both looking rattled. Annabeth called Jason's attention, and he turned from his mourning to demand what she wanted. She pointed at the newcomers, and he sighed angrily. He clearly did not want to contend with new arrivals, but it was his job, so he followed her.

The four demigods met somewhere in front of the Mess Hall, and Annabeth and Jason stared in shock at the boy.

He had messy, curly black hair and eyes that glinted like he couldn't be trusted. A tool belt was fastened around his waist, and a pretty big hammer was clutched in his right hand. In his other, he held the hands of the red haired girl who glanced behind her nervously. He studied them both carefully, and a giant grin spread across his face. He sighed in relief.

"Leo?"

* * *

There was something oddly satisfying about witnessing your own funeral.

Anne had never been a big fan of public displays, unless it was for a job. But her recent assignment had proved rather refreshing. It was some corporate bighead who had dug a little too deeply into her companies affairs after they did a hit for him. He'd paid one mill for it, and apparently thought that was too much money to spend without knowing more about the people he was putting his trust into.

So her boyfriend, John, had done some digging and discovered several sexual harassment charges filed against Mr. Brendan Fredericks that had been quickly and mysteriously dropped because he paid the judge under the table. So Anne played a hunch and went in.

But the assignment had gone wrong. One of her backup crews fouled the whole thing up right before she stuck a knife in his belly and she had to pretend she was brutally murdered and hauled off. She left enough blood behind, fired a gun three times into the floorboards, and taken off, skidding away in the black getaway van so typical of Hollywood to use. Her lover Mr. Fredericks pretended she was nothing more than a devote secretary whom he was grieved to lose. Please, Anne thought. She was just the only one who tolerated his pickup lines.

He stood at the podium where a giant picture of her hung off of, and she gaged. He was wearing enough cologne for her to smell it all the way in the back row. What did he do, bathe in the stuff?

Probably.

His "striking" black tux made him look even fatter than he actually was (and he was pretty big around the midsection) and there was a BBQ stain on his white undershirt. Anne rolled her eyes. Yeah, real broken up.

Fake tears spilled down his chubby cheeks while he read monotone from index cards he'd had his new pretty secretary write. "Although Jessica cannot be buried physically," he continued in that boring History-teacher voice, running his left hand through his balding head of white hair, his wedding ring glinting in the light. "We know she is here in spirit, watching over us." Anne struggled not to crack up. As if she'd care about these people enough to skip Elysium to "watch over them." Mortals and that stupid heaven kick. It was ridiculous.

Anne stood up solemnly and started clapping, mostly because everyone else had already given the CEO a standing ovation. He bowed. Anne gaped at him, her clapping breaking apart at his arrogance. She wanted to put a bullet in his head right then and there, crowd or no, but she restrained herself. Patience was her strong suit.

Her short black dress and classic mourner's veil hid her face quite well. The movies hadn't been wrong about that. She'd just had to find one dark and think enough to cover her face well enough. And alterations on the color of her lips and dye in her naturally black hair helped conceal her identity even better.

She'd deliberately selected a dress that hugged different curves than her enticing ensembles while working as that perv's secretary. Brendan was reciting his heartbroken speech to everyone who asked, looking devastated, but it was all false. To him, Jessica Casts was nothing more than a nice piece of ass to be grabbed. He was so sexist.

She walked up to him with her head and muttered, "Mr. Fredericks, I know you must be grieving, but I'm Jessica's sister, Alexia, and I have news about her will that you might want to know. Can we speak in private?" As she expected, the effect was immediate. He excused himself, telling his wife "Business" before hurrying off after "Alexia" with a greedy glint in his eye. He opened an office and asked Anne to step inside, which she gratefully did.

He sat down on a chair and rubbed his hands together greedily. Anne turned her back to him, one hand on the desk, the other lovingly caressing her favorite assassin weapon in the world. The silenced 9 millimeter handgun. In a gunfight, Anne would never use it. It was too weak a bullet, but for a quiet hit job such as this, silenced, it was perfect.

"Jessica left me something, didn't she?" Fredericks said greedily. Anne laughed dryly and turned, drawing her favorite knife. The Celestial bronze glinted in the light from Chicago. "What the..." he started, scrambling back, but Anne was already on him, clamping her hand over his mouth before he could scream. He bit the palm her hand, but she just smiled. Her blood poured into his mouth and he gaged on it, but Anne wouldn't feel pain until later. She been given a sedative for that.

"Oh, Jessica left you something alright." Anne chuckled manically. "Her best wishes on the afterlife." Grandly, because Anne so loved a soap opera level gasp, she removed the headdress and watched as the shock spread across his face. Her darker brown hair didn't throw him off by much.

"Jessie?" he muttered from behind her hand.. "What are you doing?"

"Mortals aren't supposed to know about demigods, Bren. It goes against our code. Especially not big shots like you." She dragged her knife under his throat and his sucked in a sharp breath. "Relax," she told him. "You know enough to know that this is Celestial bronze. It only kills demigods and monsters. You're neither. Well," she laughed. "Not in the conventional sense." Anne knew he would call for help now, she removed her hand.

"You work for Them, don't you?" Anne smiled and nodded. She hated the full name for her organization. Whoever came up with it had been drunk when they did. Honestly, Trained Hitmen and Elite Mercenaries? The only reason they'd come up with the name was for the cool acronym. But Anne had to admit, T.H.E.M was a pretty cool name. Inspired fear in the hearts of her kills. She loved fear.

"But...if that won't kill me, then..."

He stopped when he saw her draw her gun and attach the silencer. She pressed it against his skull and smiled. "This is lead. This is what lead you to die at Anne's hand. Have fun in the next life." She pulled the trigger, wincing at her terrible joke. She wiped the blood from the silencer and sighed at the splatter on her dress. Another fifty bucks down the drain.

She picked up her headdress on the way out the fire escape, then stopped and remembered something. She reached into her black purse and pulled out a drachma, flipping it into the air with the practice to know it would land with the head of the goddess facing up on top of the body. They were custom designed and utterly valueless, except for the kick of Anne knowing how to leave her signature mark.

Her mother would be so proud.

* * *

**Did I not tell you? Sick and twisted. Those of you who read this, thank you. And if I scarred you for life, I'm really, really sorry. I'm in a bit of a dark mood today and decided to incorporate this woman into the fanfiction. **

**The two previous questions are still open, and I cannot continue with the Camp Jupiter side of things until I get this answered.  
WHERE WERE LEO AND FELICIA?**

**Please, send in ideas, 'cuz I'm stuck. I don't care if it's mythological or not at this point, just give me a freaking location! I don't want to think about that! I've got too much other story junk running around in my head at the moment. Okay, sorry. Metal breakdown. I'm calm.**

**I've been begging you people to review, and I still will, but I've thought about taking a different approach now. I have no idea how many of you reading this write on this site or have stuff besides fanfiction, but I want you to understand that the most valuable thing to an author is not positive feedback. It's negative. You read that right. N-E-G-A-T-I-V-E feedback because we want to get better, and we can't do that if all you do is read or say "Great job!" So those of you who really like my story, please go over it once or twice if you have to and see something, **_**anything**_** that could get improved and tell me. I love the fact that you guys think it's so great that it doesn't need anything, but that is a misconception. Everything can get better, but if I don't know what needs improvement I can't improve it. Get it? I want to make this enjoyable for you, but I want to make it enjoyable for me too. So please, review.**


	21. HalfBlood Quip 3

**This one is actually going to be a short story from Nico di Angelo's POV shortly after the Titan War while he's waiting for his cabin to finish being built. **

**Half Blood Quip 3: Nico di Angelo and the Annoying Demigod**

I rested my elbow lazily across my right knee and stared down Half-Blood Hill absentmindedly. My cabin was still being built by the skeletal minions I'd summoned a week ago, and it would take approximately another three days for it to finish. In the meantime, I was told to go enjoy myself by Annabeth Chase, who frankly was more concerned about spending time with her boyfriend, my cousin Percy Jackson, than worrying about my enjoyment. So I decided to sit on the crest of the hill, occasionally tossing beef jerky at Peleus, the golden dragon that guarded the Golden Fleece.

I found my mind wandering to the succulent meals eaten for eternity in Elysium Fields and my mouth watered hungrily. I glanced at my watch, which had been a gift from Percy for my birthday. I insisted that I didn't know my birthday, and therefore couldn't accept the gift, but he refused to take no for an answer. So my birthday was now the day after Percy's, on August 19. Go figure.

The watch read four-thirty. I groaned. It was still another half-an-hour before dinner. Beaten out of food, I continued to sit silently while the clock ticked by. My stomach rumbled constantly, and I was getting impatient. My glances at my watch grew closer and closer together until I was staring at it every five seconds. I stood up finally, realizing that if I wasn't fed soon, I would get angry.

Nobody wants a hungry, angry son of Hades running around.

Before I could turn around and jog down the hill however, I heard something behind me. The snap of a twig. I laughed despite myself. There was probably some snarling monster looming behind me, just as hungry as I was, except it couldn't get to its food. The barrier maintained by the Golden insured no non-demigod personnel could cross the perimeter, set by the pine tree from which the Fleece hung.

I turned around to gloat and saw a kid about my age running up the hill for her life. She skidded to a stop in front of me, and a Cyclops was lumbering up the hill after her. Her green eyes widened when she saw me. I looked from her to the monster then back to her and yanked her across, inciting an infuriated yelp.

"Hey!" she shouted angrily, digging her heels into the dirt. "Is it out of the frying pan and into the fryer? Didn't your mother ever teach not to push people around?" She placed her hands defiantly on her hips just as the Cyclops reached the barrier. She screamed as it was thrown back. A second attempt caused the monster to break apart into the golden dust all his kind did.

I rolled my eyes at her. I had never initiated a demigod before, but it looked like my lucky day. Joy. "That was a Cyclops." I told her. She laughed like I was an idiot.

"I could see that. I don't really know about anything else that big with a humongous eye in the middle of its forehead." To emphasis her point, she curled her forefinger and thumb into a circle and pressed it in between her eyes. It was a completely unnecessary gesture, and she seemed to realize that when she awkwardly flicked a piece of brown hair out of her eye. She looked around, and then saw Peleus.

I tossed him a piece of beef jerky, and it disappeared down his gullet. Peleus purred for more, but I shook my head. He was already getting fat from all the treats the campers kept giving him. Much more and he wouldn't be able to get up.

The girl's eyes darted from dragon to me to the pine tree and the Fleece hanging from its branch. Then she turned and took in everything in the valley below, eyes never reverting back to their narrow width. I sighed impatiently and ran my fingers through my dark hair. The girl started and turned back to face me. "What is this place?" she asked in awe.

"Camp Half-Blood." I said irritably. Everyone was working toward the Mess Hall, and I wanted to eat. "You're a demigod, child of a human and Greek god. Your mom or dad, whichever's the god, fell for a mortal, had you, and now you have to get trained here so things like that Cyclops don't eat you. At thirteen, you'll be claimed by your godly parent. Then you'll move into the appropriate cabin. Until then, you'll stay in Cabin Eleven, for Hermes half-bloods." I nodded, happy with my explanation, and started down the hill. But before I could take three steps, the little girl grabbed my arm and stopped me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," she said, holding up a hand. "You think you can drop something like that in my lap and just walk away? You got another thing comin', pal, I'll tell you that. I've got a couple questions I want answered before you can charge off like that."

"What?" I demanded. "I thought I just explained everything."

She shook her head, causing her brown bob cut to bob. Ironic much? "No, you babbled and tried to get away from actually telling me what's going on. Now then, for my questions." She crossed her arms to tell me she meant business. I was not a big fan of this girl's attitude.

"I'm not usually the guy that explains this stuff. You should talk to Annabeth." I turned around again, but she yanked me back. "What now?" I'd even admit I sounded like a kid.

"I'm not done talking to you!" she told me firmly. "If I'm a demiblood..."

"Demigod," I corrected shortly. "Or half-blood."

"Demiblood. I said that. Anyway, if I'm a demiblood," I groaned and she stopped. "What?"

"Nothing,"

"The why'd you moan?" I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. This girl was getting on my nerves. "Oh forget I said anything."

I perked up instantly. "Gladly," I tried to run that time, but she pulled me back in front of her.

"Wow, Dark and Mysterious, you're not much for conversation, are you?"

"No," I told her. "Actually, I prefer to talk to ghosts, not people." She stared at me. "I'm a son of Hades. Lord of the Underworld?" she shook her head. "My dad is the supreme controller of the dead." She made a face.

"That's kind of...I don't know? Gross?" I rolled my eyes again. Everybody thought Hades was gross. And yet my powers were incredibly sweet. It was such a double standard it wasn't even funny.

"No," I said simply, trying to walk away again.

"You control the dead?" she asked, awe-inspired. I rubbed my forehead and nodded. "So what is it like being the supreme commander of the dead?" she asked energetically. I raised my eyebrows.

"Less of the living bother me." I told her shortly, trying to walk away. I tried to infer that she was, but it didn't work.

"So do ghosts really moan all the time?" I stared at her in disbelief.

"Stop watching Hollywood."

"Can you kill people?"

"Don't know. Want to find out?" She completely missed the blatant threat.

"Does Hades really look like he does in _Hercules_?"

"Not even close,"

"Do you hate Zeus, then, 'cuz he's your dad's rival and all?"

"Zeus hates Poseidon more than he does my father."

"Are there any sons of Poseidon here?" My eyes lit up when I realized I could get rid of the infuriating menace.

"Yes, My friend, Percy Jackson. I'm sure he'd love to answer your questions." I turned and saw he walking arm in arm with Annabeth, laughing. I tried to flag him down, but he thought I was waving. I shook my head, but he was already out of sight.

"Don't worry about it, I'll talk to him later." The girl cut me off. I remembered Percy told me I was this annoying when I first met him, asking him about surfing and other stupid things, but I never believed him. I believed him even less now. How could I have ever been as aggravating as this upstart? "Are you super rich, 'cuz your dad owns all the riches beneath the Earth?"

"That's not my thing. I control the dead."

"Do you have any siblings?"

The space around me darkened at her question, but she ignored it and continued her interrogation.

"Who's your least favorite god?"

"Ares," I said shortly.  
"Who's he?"

"God of war."

"Sounds bad." She guessed. "Your favorite god? Your dad, right?" I shook my head.

"I hate my father, and he hates me. I prefer Apollo, except for his incompetency with poetry." She crunched her eyes together.

"But Apollo's the god of poetry."

"Exactly." She didn't understand that.

"Doesn't he have a sister?"

"Artemis. My cousin, Thalia, is part of her Hunt."

"What's that?"

"Think an all-girls monster hunting team."

"Can I join?"

"You like guys?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"You can't date if you're on the hunt."

"Oh," she said. "I don't like guys anyway." I rolled my eyes.

"What's your name?" I demanded finally, shooting back a question at her. She looked surprised.

"Nicole. Hey, I'm hungry. You got food?" She ran down the hill, and I gaped at her back.

I jogged over to dinner and sat down at a table, just as Chiron was making the final announcements. I grinned when I saw Travis Stoll being bombarded with questions from the obnoxious Nicole.

Everyone filed back to their cabins, and my face fell. I'd missed dinner.

My stomach growled.

I walked back up to the hill and waited till breakfast. Peleus was snoring contently on the hill, full off of my beef jerky. I reached into my pocket to pull out the jerky, thinking I could finally eat something.

I was out.

Does anyone else see the irony in this?

**Should I write more short stories for Half-Blood Quips? Please tell me which people you would like the next one to be about.**

**I know where I'm going to put Leo and Felicia. You don't have to review for that anymore. Unless you want to guess.**

**I still am trying to figure out how to fit in Sam with this whole thing. The actual story I mean. Whose point of view do you want the next chapter, by the way? You can choose from Percy, Chiron, one of the gods, Luke, Sam, one of the campers at Camp Half-Blood, Percy's mother, Paul, his stepdad, Bianca, another dead demigod on Othrys, or Anne again. No Camp Jupiter characters yet.**

**Choose two from above. Only two.**

**Okay, so here's the rundown on Anne is you didn't read her point of view before. Skip down to the next enter is you have. She was at her own funeral, only her alias was Jessica, and she was supposed to have killed a businessman who was figuring out about demigods. She ended up pretending to be "Jessica's" sister and lured the businessman into a private room when she told him "Jessica's" will mentioned him. She put a bullet in his head after scaring the daylights out of him and flipped a drachma on top of the body before fleeing out the window, which landed goddess-side up. It's a unique coin. **

**She works for a group called Trained Hitmen and Elite Mercenaries (T.H.E.M) In other words, she's an assassin. **

**If you can guess who Anne's mother is, I'll let you decide who dies and who doesn't in the Twenty-Second chapter. Hint: She's not a goddess previously mentioned in the Percy Jackson or Heroes of Olympus books.**


	22. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen: Chess**

Percy Jackson was standing in the middle of ruin.

The cool sea breeze rushed over his uncomfortably naked chest, making him hug himself and shiver. His feet, too, were bare, so the decayed pieces of wood and brick tickled his heels. He shifted his weight and a piece of wood cracked, echoing loudly in the silence.

He took a step forward and immediately felt the urge to turn back. He hesitated before lowering his foot, confused by the unexpected panic rising in his chest. After surveying the surrounding area, though desolate and depressing, he couldn't find any anomalies or signs of danger. So why was his instincts telling him to run?

Stupidly, he ignored his better judgment and forged ahead, intrigued by the ruins. After picking up a small wooden board, he recognized the rough surface and blackened crust to be the scars of a fire. He discarded the wood after coming to his conclusion and continued wandering, feeling his curiosity grow with each cracking step.

He walked around absentmindedly, glancing around and taking in the scenery like you would at a museum. Well, most people would act that way at a museum. Of course Percy had never had the patience to pay attention or become invested in a tour unless something really interested him. Apparently he'd found a drive. Destruction.

He scoured the aftermath, shifting wood and remains to study the glint hidden beneath them. He found a rusty Celestial bronze sword in the ruin. It took him several minutes to realize the ramifications of that discovery.

Suddenly, his foot caught on something and he fell forward. An involuntary shout of alarm was torn from his lips and he thrust out his arms to stop himself from hitting the ground face first. It didn't work. His arms collapsed under his weight, abnormally weak and shaky. He turned his head sideways at the last second and the sharp wood sliced into his temple rather than his eye. He swore and hissed angrily, holding the bleeding cut, which stung from contact with his salty skin. He gritted his teeth and pursed his lips while the pain subsided, irritated because he was stupid enough to trip. With aching, sore, and cut up feet, he stood up and turned an accusatory glare at the ground, scanning it for the source of his loss of balance.

And screamed.

He hadn't tripped on a protruding structural support or lost belonging. At first, he mistook it for small kind of poll, crouching down and squinting his eyes curiously. It wasn't until he picked it up that he realized it was a thigh bone.

Alright, so he wasn't sure it was a thigh bone. Percy had never paid attention in anatomy or any of that garbage. And he also conceded that it wasn't garbage and the knowledge attained from listening could actually save his life or the life of a friend one day. But the lectures were just so damn _boring_.

He dropped the body part in alarm, stumbling backward in terror. He didn't want to believe he'd, however inadvertently, desecrated someone's remains. Not to mention the fact he couldn't get over the fact he'd tripped over a _dead body_. That reached brand new levels of gross and nauseating.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen a body, he reasoned desperately, trying to slow his heart rate and breathing. Back during the Titan War, he'd watched Silena Beauregard die, and seen the explosion resulting in Charles Beckondorf's demise. He saw Zoe Nightshade draw her last breath and burned the shrouds of those fallen in the battles fought against Kronos' army, bodies wrapped inside. But this was different. This was someone who had never been buried, never been given a funeral or treated the respect that befits the deceased. Percy had seen the Underworld. It wasn't a cheery place and the dead deserved one last luxury before they were let go completely.

But this individual, whoever they were, had been abandoned at death, possibly left to die without the solace of friends or family. Percy shuddered. He couldn't imagine a worse fate. Dying alone, family all fleeing for their sakes while you slowly felt the strands of life yanked from you and the fatal _snip_ of Fate's string. It was the kind of stuff of nightmares.

Percy pushed aside the pieces of wood and metal and rubble, revealing the bones beneath. There wasn't much holding them together, and some had already been disturbed. But Percy had a decent enough idea about what the body looked like to sort them in a resemblance of their arrangement while this person was still alive. He looked around. The best thing to do would have to give them a proper Greek burial, but that just wasn't an option. So he picked up a sturdy piece of wood and dug a hole.

He wanted to keep the bones in order, but the grave was so shallow and small that they had to be stacked on top of each other. He had to search for the skull after organizing everything else, but eventually he found the crushed head. The side had been bashed in mercilessly and Percy-although not a forensic pathologist-figured the cause of death was bludgeoning. Gingerly, he set the skull above the rest of the body and started shoveling the dirt back into the grave.

Standing above the grave, Percy thought about what to say. "Er...I don't...didn't know you." He amended clumsily. "But I'm sure you died a hero's death, whoever you are. I'm sorry I can't make you a headstone or something, but I hope Hades' cuts you a break. I bet you deserve Elysium Fields. So...goodbye, I guess?" It wasn't the most formal or heartfelt sendoff ever, but in Percy's opinion, considering the alternative, it was awesome. So he turned around and started away from the grave.

Just then, the ground and he only had time for one thought. _Gaea._ He looked around desperately and saw nothing non-earth for him to climb and hide from Mother Earth. So he ran.

He felt the ground turn to mud, each time his bare foot landed it sank deeper into the ground, slowing his down. But he persevered, desperately trying to escape Gaea's clutches before she got him.

But again, the ruin was his undoing. He stumbled, giving Mother Earth enough to take hold, and felt his shins submerge into the ground. He tried to yank his legs free, but he was trapped. He pumped his arms furiously, kicking his legs, but nothing he did made any different. He felt anger boil and sent a burst of water into the ground, hoping to daze his unbeatable enemy long enough for him to get free and run. It didn't work.

He was up to his hips now and sinking even faster. He threw up his arms when he head started to go under, grasping at the air in an effort to grab something and pull himself back up, but there was nothing. He screamed-a long, blood-curdling yell that chilled the air-and the earth filled his mouth, silencing him.

_What do you think of my new kingdom, Jackson?_ Gaea mused in my mind, blocking out everything aside from his terror and her voice. _You once called it Camp Half-Blood. _A muffled cry of protest tore from his lips, but it did no good. He tried to cough up the mud, but everything was too dense. He couldn't move. _Oh, don't worry, it hasn't happened yet. But it will. Very soon, you're precious home...sorry, _homes_ will feel the wrath of Gaea, and there will be no hero to save them._

Percy started thrashing around. At least as much as he could. Then vines wrapped around his limbs, holding him still. _Enough fighting. It hurts. _Gaea chuckled. _Don't forget, Perseus. However hard you struggle, no matter what you do, I will win. After all, I have an inside man. You are my pawn, Jackson. Like it or not, you're my ticket inside. As long as you're alive, I can't be defeated. _

_Even now you pursue a hopeless endeavor. While you run to save the dead imprisoned on Othrys, Camp Half-Blood must face its own approaching advisory. And they have no symbol of a Legion to save them. Remember Jackson, you're playing on my chess board, and I'm the Queen..._

Percy sat bolt upright, screaming his head off until he realized he was no longer trapped underground. Running his fingers through his hair, he realized he hadn't _been _underground at all. It had all been dream.

He glanced sideways at Luke, who was driving and trying to ignore the little girl bouncing up and down between them. She had a lap belt, but it was lose, so she was free to be as impatient as she wanted without fearing restraint.

"So you're really my brother?" she babbled quickly. Percy looked up at Luke in alarm, who had apparently not noticed he was awake.

"Half-brother, technically. On dad's side."

The little girl squealed in delight, making Percy cover his ears at the horrible sound more reminiscent of screeching tires than an exclamation of excitement. "And daddy's a god. This is _so_ cool!" She clapped her hands and Percy recognized her as the little girl back at Lamia's truck stop. Emily. She was Luke's half-sister?

Percy cleared his throat and Luke flew up so high in his seat that he smacked his head on the roof of the truck. "What the hell?" Percy demanded. Luke shrugged and laughed nervously, rubbing his head with his left hand.

"She killed Lamia." He explained weakly. Percy's jaw hit the floor and stared at the little girl.

"You're sure it's Hermes, Luke? She sounds a little more powerful than that...no offense." Percy added quickly, realizing what it sounded like. Luke waved it away.

"No offense usually means it's offensive, which that wasn't. Yeah, she's a strong one, but Hermes kids are kind of fifty-fifty. Look at me, for instance. I'm not the weakest demigod you'll ever meet." Percy had to concede to that one. Luke was the best swordsman alive, although the added years on Percy's side might have given the edge between the two of them. "And besides, just look at her eyes. You don't get that look with everyone." The little girl turned her sparkling blue eyes on Percy, smiling happily, and he knew Luke had a little sister.

"Are you sure you want to be driving toward an incredibly dangerous mountain with a five year old in tow?" Percy asked incredulously, staring at the girl. She huffed.

"I'm six." She snapped at him, sticking out her chest and crossing her arms. Luke ignored her, and so did Percy.

"We don't have a choice. The others are in the back." If Percy hadn't been strapped in, he would've fallen over in alarm.

"You brought the others?" he demanded. Apparently Luke was an idiot.

"I didn't have a choice in the matter, Percy." He insisted. "The only other alternative was leaving them in that diner, and I was not doing that." He shot a dark glare over at him, and Percy was forced to accept defeat. Luke had a valid point. They would have been meals for Lamia anyway when she reformed.

Not wanting to argue any further, Percy sat back in his seat, watching the sunrise ahead with a rising hopefulness. He remembered Lamia had mentioned the fact that Annabeth was still alive. And everyone else onboard the ship. He couldn't help thinking there might still be a chance. But that hope quickly died.

_Remember, Jackson, you're playing on my chess board, and I'm the Queen..._

They had lost.

How could they have? They were immortal. They couldn't die, couldn't feel the finality of death. They just kept coming back. But the monsters had come in waves, crushing the uprising with barely any effort. They were overpowered and forced to return to work.

Now Bianca was in Silena's place, chains gnawing at her wrists while monsters exchanged turns whipping her back into slivers of skin and muscle. Silena had been broken or at least tinkered dangerously close, hanging her head in helplessness in front of Bianca. She didn't even seem to know her friend was there, watching her, begging her to stir. She wasn't dead, Bianca knew. But she was close enough.

Bianca struggled to remember how everything had been lost so quickly between lashes. The demigods weren't winning, granted, but some were escaping, running down the mountain while monsters attacked new advisories. They were giving each other the opportunity the save themselves.

Then Atlas appeared. The massive Titan shook the earth when he landed, a crater opening at his feet. Bianca instinctively cowered, feeling like a prey animal caught in the snares of a trap. Atlas' voice boomed across the warring armies. "Neither of you can die. So stop fighting a war that cannot be won." And they did. Everyone laid down their arms and surrendered to the monsters. Even Bianca, who fought tooth and nail against the impulse, was doubled over until she submitted to Atlas' control. A monster whisked her away and she was given special treatment for her "treacherous deeds."

But she vowed that she would get free. Someday she'd get away. She just had to bid her time, wait for the right moment to strike. And she'd lose occasionally, like the pieces of a chess board, a few pawns, maybe a bishop or knight, but as long as her King survived, she'd be fine. She had to keep her King alive, if it was the last thing she did.

She couldn't let Nico down again.

So she'd play their game of chess. She'd let the black pieces knock her forces off the board, but her King would remain. She would summon her last piece from the ruin, smuggle a pawn across the board, and earn back her Queen.

So where was her pawn?

**Sorry for the long wait. Writer's block is a b***h. I'll try to update The Forgotten Fear too. Same questions. And thanks to "I heart RR and JP books" for the suggestion, but sadly it doesn't work with the flow of my story. If you can think of anything else, (not involving the couple you suggested, please) tell me. I appreciate it. But Sam's application is still open for suggestion. **

**Thanks to everyone who's commenting. I'm getting a lot more reviews and I love it. **

**By the way, if anyone's reading The Forgotten Fear, try listening to "Not Alone" by Linkin Park. Seriously, it fits the whole "Percy-leaving-Camp-because-of-Hera-thing." Even fits with No More Death, just not as much.**

**Anne's mother is not Eris. I seriously want somebody to get this, because 22 is right around the corner and I'm blanking. Don't suggest unless you've guessed correctly. Her mother's name rhymes with Anne's last name, which will be revealed next chapter. I'll underline it so you know. **


	23. Chapter 20

**Here comes the seriously mature themes, guys. More sadistic and disturbing Anne. If you do not want to read about a girl subjected to prostitution at fifteen by her deadbeat father, I suggest you skip over this part. Those of you trying to guess Anne's mother's name, you might want to scan over for an underline indicating her last name, clueing you in on the identity of Anne's mother. If no one guesses it by then, Chapter Twenty-Two will contain the answer. Meaning you only have two chapters left. **

**Chapter Twenty: Killer**

Anne sneered sadistically at a Chicago businesswoman watching her incriminatingly. The blonde-haired commuter immediately redirected her attention to the IPhone clutched permanently in her pasty manicured hand, glancing up periodically to make sure Anne wasn't advancing on her.

After the woman was past, Anne pulled out a small flipbook and scratched a diagonal line across four preexisting scribbles. She tallied up the total mentally. So far, she'd gotten forty suspicious looks in just under half an hour. That had to be a record.

Tucking the little black scratchpad in her back pocket, Anne crossed her arms, squeezing in between two oblivious men in a heated conversation. They didn't even blink when she muttered "Excuse me." And courtesy was not something Anne usually provided. Most of the time, she just moved on with her life, even if the insult was putting a bullet through somebody's brain.

It didn't really matter to her at that moment if people thought she was weird. Which she actually was. Her jacket was oversized, contrasting baggy black over shredded yellow. Her jeans had more than their share of years already inflicted on them, but Anne had no intention of getting rid of them anytime soon. They were broken in and comfortable. And for a girl constantly on the run, comfortable was good.

That was the unfortunate difficulty when one worked for T.H.E.M. The benefits sucked. Anne, granted, wouldn't turn eighteen and therefore be entitled to the benefits of working class citizens across the rest of the country until September 9. But the mere fact that she risked her life and incrimination every time she completed one of the extremely hazardous assignments to which she was required to fulfill in order to continue living deserved some recognition aside from the touch-and-go paychecks for individual knock-off jobs. Anne had been forced to sleep with some of the slime-balls she'd been sicced on. You'd think that would earn a little bonus money, but _no_. It didn't matter she was the most effective employee. She had to live on the streets.

But working for T.H.E.M. had its perks. Such as the fact she could to take out the lowest of the low polluting the already filth-infested American cities. It was always gratifying when she heard the slice of a knife through a still-beating heart or the explosion sound of a bullet aimed at the cherry-spot for the world's most prestigious. It was like giving a little back to the community for all the hell it had caused her throughout the years.

Bitterly, she remembered her conman father, strung out on drugs and surrendering his fifteen-year-old daughter to the trials and struggles of prostitution. Anne hadn't stuck around on the street corners long, though. Because when she discovered a pimp patrolling the streets, she pretended to be an experienced whore looking for a permanent place. He didn't take much convincing. After driving the sexy liar to his place and turning his back for a few minutes, he retired to his bedroom to "freshen up." Anne looted the joint. He had shiny watches and pristine new clothes for his hired dolls. Anne hastily stuffed it all into a bag and made a break for it, planning to sell it on EBay or Crag's List. But before she could work his oily lock, the bastard has resurfaced to find his gutted living room.

He'd tried to pin Anne down at that point, but she'd still been a proud virgin and kneed him where his pride was before he could unzip his pants. The desperate yet quiet fight that ensued left Anne frantically groping around for something to defend herself with. The pimp had stood over her, bouncing a knife between his hands while he leered at her revealing skirt. That damned skirt had been her undoing. She'd almost been on her feet and out the door when the clinging fabric brought her back down hard. And it had led to a precarious and impossible position. On the other end of a knife.

The pimp knelt down, straddling her sides with her knees. She could feel his anticipation wet and hard against her inner thigh, and the knowledge of what he was going to do with his knife made her want to be violently sick. Her hand continued to feel around for an object of her salvation and found the broken table leg from the shattered coffee table where the pimp had previously thrown her. Before he could force her skirt up any higher, she lashed out and plunged the broken wood into his chest, freezing his face in a look a shock.

"Bitch," was his last word.

Anne couldn't remember how long she had spent staring at the paling body after she had shoved him off her, table leg still protruding from his chest and half-unbuttoned checkered shirt stained red with blood. Ever since, her mind had been scarred with the image of her first kill.

It wasn't until the sun started to peer through his velvet curtains that Anne realized she had to move. She remembered feeling surprise that the police had not already been called in, but she certainly was not going to dial the number. She didn't know how well her case would stand up in court. She imagined the headline for the newspaper, **Kleptomaniac Hooker Kills City Pimp**. But before she was all the way down the stairs, Anne noticed the odd silence echoing through the apartment building.

There had only been three apartments in the building, all belonging to outlaws. In her old neighborhood, (in other words, the group of cons her father made her associate with) this complex was known as "The Cartel's Only Apartments." Aside from the perverted demon she'd just silenced for good, there were two other pigs living here; Andrew Valer, a leading cartel leader, and Dustin Jacobs, the city con-artist. He'd been the guy my father had allegedly smuggled out of a quarter million dollars and got another work associate of his nailed for it.

But she suspected there to be something on the second floor, where Valer lived. Instead, she got silence. Complete, dead silence. Cautiously, she crept up on his richly colored door to find it cracked. When she peered on eye through the narrow opening, she saw another body.

Only this one had been dead for a while.

Its face, Valer's face, was blown open, a disgusting bloody goo oozing onto the ground from the bullet hole. His face was frozen in a look of boredom, chalk white with contrasting black hair hanging over those endless, unseeing eyes. Anne wanted to be sick. The pimp had shut his eyes before he died. It almost made the death more disturbing if the whites of their eyes were still visible. If their bloodshot, rotting eyeballs could still stare endlessly into the distance, seeing everything and yet nothing.

Then Anne's life changed forever.

A man dressed in a classic "Singing in the Rain" raincoat appeared, carrying an extended pistol in his left hand as he kicked the body over. He bent down; reaching out with white surgical gloved hands took the bullets embedded in the carpet. An involuntary scream was torn from Anne's lips before she could stop it. The assassin had looked up, spotted her, and immediately drawn his gun. She did the rational thing. She ran.

But she ran the wrong way. Because just then sirens could be heard from the street, parking in front of the apartment complex and rushing toward the doors. Anne retreated farther up the stairs, tripping because of that damned skirt and finally making it to Jacobs apartment, where she discovered another dead body. Horrified, she whipped around and saw the killer standing in front of her, looking glib.

"I was supposed to kill all three, but you made my job easier. Thank you," Then he raised his gun. Anne sunk to her knees, but she didn't cry. She'd been raised with the filth of Chicago. She was stronger than tears. She was stronger than desperation. She was a killer now too. She was stronger than them all.

Her father was an addicted wimp who got his kicks from lying to hard-working people to get what he wanted. Her mother was a slut who'd gotten knocked up and dumped the result on the doorstep of her father's rehabilitation center. Her supposed friends were all the ornaments of other conmen higher up in the ranks than her father, and they hadn't spoken a word out of fear of retaliation when her father tossed her to the dogs. But Anne had persevered. She'd surpassed them all. What did she care if she died now? Her life wasn't worth anything anyway.

Then she was struck with a dignified idea. She rose back to her feet and focused her sparkling eyes on the murderer, smiling. "Go ahead and shoot me then. If you've got the balls."

That was when the assassin lowered his gun. "Do you know both your parents?" he asked randomly. Anne was taken aback by the question.

"What?" she demanded, not comprehending what had just happened.

"Do you know both your parents?" he repeated slower, like she was retarded. She snarled.

"No. My mother dumped me on my dad's doorstep when I was a day old. It was a one-night stand." The murderer grinned and stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder just as the SWAT team clamored up the stairs.

Anne was petrified. All of those red dots trained on her stomach, she felt her heart race. But the murderer wasn't fazed in the slightest. He took a sweeping step forward and snapped his fingers. A cool breeze swept over the room, making the collection of SWAT operatives stumble in a daze. "We are just bystanders. You will escort us outside and not ask any questions." The obvious leader of the team was the first to respond. Anne thought he was going to call the murderer a crazy person and cuff him, but instead he nodded.

"Come with me, sir." He led us both into open air and ordered the team back in.

The murderer turned to me and grinned. He dragged an arm over my shoulder and laughed. "Come on, kid. Time to show you what it's like to be divine."

That was the day she found out she was a demigod. And it was also the day she watched the man who had introduced her to T.H.E.M die because he took too long in getting out. Her boss-a balding man who looked like James Bond after he retired and had too much junk food-had then proudly announced a vacancy that Anne would fill.

"Anne McCartney," a voice said suddenly, shocking the black-haired mercenary from her memories. She stopped and looked around, but no one seen to be paying any more attention to her than a fleeting glance at her ratty clothes. She whirled around, hand ghosting over her 9 millimeter pet handgun. Her fingers twitched in anticipation for an attack. It was rare for a monster to go after her, but it did happen. Her only amnesty with the minions of Tartarus was the fact she occasionally ran errands for them. But she'd never killed a fellow demigod.

"Does that mean you won't?" the voice asked. Anne started. It could read her mind? "Yes. And much, much more than that, my dear. After all, I am your Mother."

Anne couldn't believe it. Her mom was actually talking to her? No, that was impossible. The gods never spoke with their mortal children. It was against the Ancient Laws. But then, if this ominous voice was not her mother, than who was it?

"I am the beginning, child. And I will be the end." Anne contorted her face in thought. Agents were carefully schooled on the Greek and Roman Myths for top proficiency, so she was well-versed in even the stories not common-knowledge from Ancient Greece.

"But..." Then Anne's voice caught. "Gaea," she breathed, looking down at the earth in horror. Mother Earth had been lulled to sleep, hadn't she? She'd been lulled to sleep by the gods and hadn't woken up since. Or had she?

"I have." Gaea responded, her ancient feminine, sleepy tone echoing through Anne's mind. People started staring at her, but Anne didn't care. She was talking to _Mother Earth_. "Your superiors do not respect your talents, Anne. They cannot see your potential as I do. But your mother is my niece, child, and I value my children and my children's children. I will not permit your talents to go wasted."

Anne smelled a profit then, and when she smelled money, all bets were off. Especially if it meant getting some half-decent clothes. "You got a job in mind?" she asked dubiously, not sure if trusting the Mother of practically everything was a smart thing to do.

"Yes." Gaea told her drowsily. "I want you to kill Perseus Jackson, son of Poseidon, and his friend, Luke Castellan, before they reach Mount Othrys. The price on their heads is quite sufficient, I believe, to assure you a comfortable and prosperous living, if you so decide to take this assignment."

Anne was doubtful. Gaea was slanted as evil, tricky, and sadistic. Then Anne shook her head. Wasn't that everything she stood for? "I need more...my lady." Gaea chuckled, and the earth trembled. Commuters stared at the ground in horror, but Anne wasn't afraid.

"They are westbound on Interstate 80. Do you accept the assignment?" Gaea seemed to be impatient. Anne felt a little wary still, but she felt like this was a chance for her.

"I need faster transportation than what they have. If you can't give me that, then..."

"Do you accept?" Gaea repeated. Anne's head snapped up. Everyone around were frozen in their places, looking around for the source of the face that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

The ground beneath Anne's feet began to crack, and she knew there was only one answer she could give Mother and still live to tell the tale.

"Yes."

Nico stared at the glass of water. He felt numb, useless, and dirty. No, dirty wasn't the right word to describe it. He felt corrupted.

He lifted up his tanned hand and inspected it carefully. It looked no different. His nails were still their usual chipped length, dirt gathered underneath making them look rotted and disgusting. But they didn't look like the hands of a killer.

He had never liked Octavian. The augur had been a sick, twisted, wretched man deserving no more than what he had been given. And his uncanny resemblance to Luke Castellan had only deepened Nico's hatred for him. But it had not been his distaste for the descendent of Apollo that drove the Stygian iron blade through his back. Seeing him pinning Frank Zhang to the ground with a knife leveled at his throat had driven Nico to do the unthinkable. Or had it?

Everything had happened so quickly, there was hardly time to map Nico's arrival with his murder. And there was one thing that he couldn't deny about the whole thing. What he had done had been murder. Frank was the one about to die, not him. His interference had been for the sake of his sister's friend and not his personal survival. So, therefore, self-defense was ruled out as a viable term. So he was left with murder.

He played back the events in his mind. After Ariadne had told him about Hazel and Frank fighting all of camp, he knew something must have gone wrong. Namely; Percy had been discovered as a Greek and Camp Jupiter wasn't taking it well. So he shadow-travelled and saw Octavian straddling someone's sides. He only had one arm, the stump of his right gushing blood and pinning down one of his victim's. Nico hadn't even consciously realized it was Frank when he thrust his sword through Octavian's stomach. He hadn't even waited to find out if the victim was a bad guy or not.

And he hadn't cared.

He'd been possessed by a temporary moment of rage and insanity, assuming Octavian was a threat and therefore needed to be killed. Even though the assumption had been correct and Octavian had been a madman intent on killing Frank, it didn't change the initial motivation.

Revenge.

But revenge for what? Sure, Nico hadn't ever liked or trusted Octavian, but there had never been any reason for him to retaliate against him. But Nico was driven with the fast, immediate urge to kill before he even knew what was happening. He'd jumped to conclusions. He'd caused a death without thinking over the ramifications. That was not something excusable for a son of Hades.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Nico was sitting in the _praetoria_, waiting for Reyna, who had requested his presence. So he assumed that the person at the door was the praetor. So why had she knocked?

"Come in," he said hesitantly. The doorknob turned and Hazel entered, looking solemn and thankful.

"Thank you," she said immediately. "I'm sorry about how I reacted, but thank you. I know why you did it, and I..." Nico held up a hand and looked away, feeling tears well in his eyes.

"Don't, Hazel." He said, trying to conceal the pain in his voice. "I lied. I'm the one who's sorry. For everything," he bowed his head in shame and remorse, his chest knotting up and getting squeezed through a meat grinder.

"What?" Hazel demanded, sitting next to him. "Nico, Octavian was a monster. You can't possibly..."

"I didn't even wait to see who he was attacking!" Nico shouted, suddenly overcome with his guilt. He turned dark, down-turned eyes to Hazel briefly before turning away again. He couldn't face his sister after what he had done. "I didn't wait to find out what was going on. I just...I just...I just murdered!"

And with that, Nico di Angelo fainted, utterly spent.

The killer woke up hours later on his back in bed, reflecting on his crimes while insanity threatened to overtake his mind. But it never did, because Gaea didn't have as much of a hold on him as she had on Percy.

Because the real reason Percy Jackson had nearly committed suicide wasn't because he had gone insane, although he very nearly had. The real reason was Gaea's voice echoed through his mind during the entire ordeal; _It's for the best._

As she was attempted to do with Nico's mind, but she never quite succeeded. Because Nico might have killed someone, but he still had his friends and family.

**Yes, I took a different approach at the end of this chapter. Usually, I write 3****rd**** person limited, but at the end, I realized the whole "Percy-attempting-suicide" angle hadn't been explained, especially after he recovered so quickly. So there you go. There's the explanation in omniscient. The rest of the story will be normal, promise. **

**Reminder: SAM!**

**You now have Anne's last name. Look up minor goddesses online and find one that rhymes with the last two syllables. Her name is McCartney (mick-cart-nae) I know traditional pronunciation is cart-ny but I didn't want to do that. Creative license. So look it up. I will private message the correct party. You have chapters left, and 21 will give no hints, got it? So this is it. **


	24. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Contention**

Leo wasn't at a loss for words. He was just at a loss.

He had thought, falsely apparently, that after so long of meticulous, dedicated planning Leo would know exactly what to say when the time arose to see his friends again. But when everything had finally, blissfully, resolved itself and Leo was standing in front of Annabeth and Jason, it occurred to him that his plans had never evolved enough to actual interaction between himself and his friends. There was always something minor to overlook, wasn't there?

At first, when Annabeth and Jason came to a wordless, shocked stop in front of him, Leo let out a sigh of relief, which he had been intending to follow up with a joke, but nothing came out of his mouth. His lips were frozen in a useless smile and he could only stare at his friends.

Leo met Jason's eyes and grinned, but his friend seemed determined not to look at him. Leo couldn't help but detect some shamefulness in his behavior. It wasn't Jason's fault Leo had miscounted the parachutes. It was just lucky Leo had been one of the last two people outfitted. He would never have been able to bear the guilt or responsibility of another person's death.

Jason was wearing new clothes and his hair was misty from a recent bath. He had lost a bit of weight, but mostly he looked like himself. Annabeth, on the other hand, looked like death.

Her blonde hair had been coming out in clumps. It was now thin and stringy, a lot like her arms. And her face looked like the donor had been a zombie. It was thin and skeletal like it had already begun to decay, the skin underneath her eyes being pulled down to earth, her entire face appearing elongated and inhuman. Her shredded Camp Half-Blood t-shirt hung from her shoulders with nothing to alter its descent or otherwise give the suggestion that Annabeth had a shape. She looked about as big as a lamppost, she was so anorexic. Leo couldn't help but wonder when the last time was she'd eaten something barely sufficient to fill her. Probably not since the night before the Argo exploded. Then Leo remembered she hadn't really eaten then either.

"Leo?" she breathed.

Suddenly, he realized he didn't have to say anything. Every muscle in his body felt weighted down, but he managed to nod. And Annabeth threw her tiny, stick arms around his neck, crying in relief. "Thank you," she breathed. Leo felt Felicia tense next to him, which surprised him a little bit. But when Annabeth finally stepped back, it wasn't Felicia who was looking particularly expressive. It was Jason.

"I'm sorry." He said. Leo laughed and waved it away, giving Jason a brotherly hug. "Leo, I really am..." Leo just shook his head.

"Jason, I don't even know what you're problem is. I'm alive, okay? And you really didn't have anything to do with me dying, so give it a rest, man. You don't have to apologize." Leo shook his head and laughed, clapping Jason on the back and turning to Annabeth somberly.

"Piper okay, right?" he asked. Annabeth nodded.

"She's fine, Leo. Actually, compared to me, she's doing great. But...Leo, there's something you should know. And I think I should tell you in private." Annabeth placed a warm, strangely strong and comforting hand on Leo's back and led him to a small enclosure just out of sight of a bunch of buildings all gathered together.

Leo had heard about there being a place in hospitals where families were taken after loved ones died. And he'd heard stories about people well aware of what was coming still bawling their eyes out when the information came despite the fact they had already, allegedly, braced themselves. But Leo had never experienced it before.

When Hephaestus told him Nyssa hadn't survived, Leo hadn't completely believed it. In the back of his mind, he'd convinced himself that his father had been lying, trying to unsettle him enough to listen to his ludicrous warnings about Felicia. But when Leo saw the look on Annabeth's face when she squared her shoulders with his and held his arms firmly, her deceptively small hands shaking, he knew exactly what was coming.

But that didn't make it hurt any less.

Annabeth's words seemed to come in slow motion, rolling off her lips like syrup, heavy and gloppy. "Leo," she said, her jaw moving slowly in Leo's surreal universe. "Nyssa didn't make it."

Some people say they were run over by a tractor. Others hit by a freight train. Some create their own unique analogies to describe the shock of loss or betrayal or really anything meaningful or emotional. But no matter what phrasing was used, the fact remained. Leo's beloved sister, Nyssa Gretchen, was dead.

After that, Annabeth led him to a line of shrouds, each burning away into smoke and ash. She picked up a pail of water in front of one shroud and poured it over the flames, already beginning to die down. "Annabeth!" a voice screamed, heavy with grief. "What are you doing? That's Leo's shroud!" Leo turned and saw a bleary eyed Piper rushing toward the sickly Annabeth, knife down and poised.

He moved to intercept before Katoptris could reach its target.

Piper opened her mouth to charmspeak him, but her face froze when she saw him. She stepped back like she was in a trance, staring at him, and her knife slipped past her fingers, clattering on the ground. As genuinely as he could manage, Leo let his face expand in a crooked smile. Piper couldn't have looked happier. "Leo?" she breathed, throwing her arms around his neck and letting him swing her around. They both laughed.

It wasn't even approaching romantic. Leo had never had any plans on snagging Piper, ever. She had always been Jason's girl, and there was nothing about her that Leo found even remotely attractive. Sure, she was drop-dead gorgeous, but that was about as far as it went. But Leo and Piper were remarkably close friends, made even closer by the quest they'd gone on together and the hell they'd shared. So when they saw each other again, there weren't any inhibitions about expressing their relief.

But nonetheless, Leo glanced nervously over at Jason to make sure he hadn't overstepped his bounds. A strained smile told him he was fine.

Leo scowled. Jason was acting severely out of character. Granted, there were days where even Leo couldn't get him to laugh, but they were few and far between. And you'd think about the sudden reappearance of his best friend, Jason would be a little happier. But the expression on his face was downright miserable. And Leo was going to find out what his problem was.

"Leo!" Piper screamed happily, right at the wrong moment. Leo had started moving toward Jason, intending to corner him and make him explain himself, when a mob of excited friends enveloped him. Leo made a thousand promises, shook a hundred hands, waved a million waves, and generally tried to maneuver around the crowd. But it took him a good ten minutes to finally clear it, and by that time, Jason was long gone.

Leo couldn't corner him the next three days, either. After saying his goodbyes to the lost campers, he set out after his friend, but Jason was nowhere in sight. The rare times over the next seventy-two hours where he managed to spot him, Jason moved away too quickly, pretending not to have seen him or heard Leo calling his name. But it was too regular and identical each time for Leo to buy it.

He wanted, anxiously, for a chance to make Jason talk to him. But it never came. Until the scary Reyna girl ordered a Senate meeting.

Reyna was regal to a fault. She was wearing that purple dress thing-a toga, Leo remembered-and making it look like a fashion statement. She sat alone in front of the group of Senators, all also wearing togas. Leo had flat refused to wear that strange bed sheet, even though Annabeth, Piper, and Jason wore them. It was just too weird.

The black-haired exotic beauty sat silently in front of the gathering of Senators, carrying an authoritative air. She commanded the room's attention without saying a word. "This meeting is to discuss the future of the prophecy." She said simply, but the single sentence sent the room into chaos. Automatically, a clamor of voices erupted, shouts exchanged across the room, accusations made to unsuspecting parties, and just basically an overall disaster.

Leo didn't even try to quiet everyone down. Annabeth had a go at it, and Piper managed to make people the near vicinity shut up, but it was just impossible to get people to close their damned mouths. Leo sighed and rested his forehead against his palm, shaking his head in defeat. Then, suddenly, someone spoke up. "BE QUIET!" Leo looked up, shocked, and saw that everyone else was doing the same. They weren't talking, either.

His eyes explored the room until they settled on the source for order. She was a good two inches shorter than he was; which was short, considering he himself wasn't much taller than Couch Hedge, the ultimate shorty. She had somewhat curly Carmel brown hair with gold colored eyes. And she was beautiful.

"Percy is out there fighting monsters and demons and _Gaea_ while you're back here arguing over _nothing_." The girl turned back to Reyna, looking desperate. "Praetor, with all due respect, there is no future to the prophecy without Percy. Until we get him back, there's nothing we can do about the Giants or the Doors of Death." Reyna studied the girl intently, and then finally nodded.

"I have to agree with you there, Hazel. The question is: how do we find him?" Hazel didn't respond. She sat back down, clearly at a loss. Leo could relate.

"Praetor," another voice said diplomatically. Leo looked around and saw another dark-haired boy rising from his seat among the Senators. Reyna's face constricted in a look of outrage. "If I may..."

"No." she snapped, her voice clipped. "You may not. You absolutely may not. The last time I listened to a snake-tongued traitor, I lost myself a partner. I will not make the same mistake again." Leo didn't understand what she was talking about, but then again, he didn't understand much of anything. No one was explaining anything to him, and apparently he had missed quite a lot.

"But..." the boy tried to argue, but a burly kid with a bow stood up and pointed toward the door. When the boy didn't move, the archer reach for an arrow and the speaker made quick work of getting out of there.

"Okay," Leo said finally, taking advantage of the momentary silence to ask what he'd been dying to ask since he got to Camp Jupiter. "That's it. I'm not going to lean back and let you guys slug it out anymore. I want to know something, and I want to know now. Where is Percy Jackson?"

He'd apparently said the wrong thing, because there was a collective gasp at his words. People turned to each other and argued in hushed tones, but Reyna made no attempt to shut them up. She bowed her head, and Leo figured he was too far out of the loop to ever find out what was going on. The Annabeth surprised him. She came to his aid. "Percy is my boyfriend," she said. "And I have yet to hear anyone tell me what happened to him. Or why Octavian's death was such a big deal. Or even why you were fighting with _yourselves_. It appears to me that you've been keeping dangerous secrets, and frankly, I'm not so sure I'm prepared to trust you if you are." There was a consensus agreement among the gathered Greeks, all apparently as confused as Leo was. He scoffed happily.

Reyna moved her jaw up and down, but she was cornered. She had to answer them or risk compromising the alliance. "Fine," she said, sagging in her seat. "But I'm warning you now. Even I don't have all the answers. Hazel, Frank, if you would help me." Hazel and the burly archer, Frank, stepped up to the front and sat on two chairs on either side of their praetor.

"I guess it's about four days ago at this point, but Percy left Camp Jupiter." Leo nodded. Annabeth looked exasperated.

"We got that!" They cried simultaneously, but Annabeth picked up where Leo left off. "I want to know _where _he went. And why." Reyna looked at Hazel and Frank in turn. Apparently this part of the story was theirs to tell.

"Okay," Frank said leaning forward. "You've got to understand, Percy was going throw a lot of stuff when he left. The day before, he tried to kill himself." The assembled Greeks immediately burst in there, defending their old leader religiously. There were a lot of insults being tossed Frank's way, but he seemed relatively unfazed. "I'm telling the truth!" he called over the din. "We're not entirely sure why, but we're almost positive Gaea had something to do with it. He snapped back too fast for it to be his own mental instability that caused it."

That was when Hazel pitched in. "Percy hadn't been well in a scary while. Frank and I were starting to wonder if he was going to be alright, and then all of sudden he walks up to us in New Rome and apologizes. That was when we knew something was wrong." Annabeth tensed next to Leo, and he tried to imagine how hard it was on her, hearing that her own boyfriend had tried to commit suicide. "Frank was the first to get to him, just before he crossed the Little Tiber." Leo noted that was the name of the river he'd gotten to Camp Jupiter through. "When I saw them, I thought Percy was trying to kill Frank. But Frank was trying to stop him from killing himself. There was a huge fight and everyone got involved. But we finally managed to subdue him and he passed out on his own." Hazel's voice cracked up like she was remembering something painful. Tears were rolling down Annabeth's cheeks.

"The next day," Frank continued, sounding a little better off than the girl. "Octavian came in proudly declaring that one of the seven was going to betray us. Then he looks straight at Percy like he knew he was a bad guy all along. Filthy hypocrite," Frank muttered a few things under his breath about Octavian, like a couple suggestions of in what crevasse of his now dead body he could stick his knife. Then Reyna cleared her throat, and Frank shook his head. "Anyway, after everyone cleared out, 'cept for me and Hazel, of course, Percy woke up. He didn't remember anything since before the Argo blew up, so he had no idea any of his friends were dead." Frank trailed off, his eyes pained. Hazel stood, picked up her chair and walked over to him, setting down the wooden seat and rubbing her hand up and down his back.

"When we finally managed to tell him what had happened, it was like watching it happen all over again. He looked devastated. But he walked out to muster anyway. While Frank and I were following him, someone came running up to us and said they needed Frank at the door. There was a half-blood under attack there and they needed back-up."

That was Frank's cue to cut in, but he didn't. Not for a long moment. Finally, he seemed to come back to himself, but his eyes were a little distant, remembering. "There were a bunch of Cyclops and dracaena and other monsters, and unfortunately, they kept reforming. Which they shouldn't have done, considering the fact that Percy, Hazel and I went through a lot of trouble freeing Thanatos so they didn't." The exasperation in his voice was almost funny, except for the fact their previous revelations still weighed heavily over the room. "But anyway, Gwen and Larry were having a hard time keeping them back, so I pitched in. We managed to get the half-blood across the river during Muster."

To Leo's surprise, Reyna chose that moment to put her two bits in. "Percy's reaction was immediate and shocking, frankly. For a moment, he didn't really answer anyone. But then he threw himself at the half-blood. After he was done beating him, he declared that he was a prisoner of Rome and named him. Luke Castellan,"

Annabeth surged to her feet. "_What?_" she demanded. "Are you telling that Luke Castellan is alive?" Reyna nodded.

"If Percy didn't kill him, which I doubt. Octavian seemed fairly adamant about having him executed, and our augur proved to be the real traitor." The confliction on Annabeth's face was plain as day and shadowed with anger and disbelief. "Percy already explained to us about who he was. You don't need to." Annabeth nodded and sat down.

"Err," Leo interrupted. "These guys might know, but I don't. And I don't think Jason or Piper do either." His friends nodded, Jason once again avoiding his eyes. That was getting annoying.

Annabeth was the one who answered. "Luke betrayed the gods during the Titan War. He housed Kronos." Leo's jaw dropped.

"Okay, so he's headless now, right?" Leo was kidding, but it was clear by the looks of disgust on everyone's faces that joking about decapitation was not kosher with them.

"Actually," Reyna said calmly. "Percy broke him out before he could be executed."

"_Excuse me_!" Annabeth was on her feet again, this time red-faced. "Even Seaweed Brain is not that stupid. There is no way in hell that my boyfriend would break Luke Castellan out of prison. You have to be wrong!" She sounded almost hysterical, and Leo tried to make her sit down.

"_Annabeth_," he hissed, tugging on her arm, but she resisted him. As thin as she was, how Annabeth could even stand was beyond him.

"Octavian was the real traitor in the end, Ms. Chase. He wanted Castellan's death. And before he was taken into custody, he revealed a desire to talk to Percy about something. Something to do with endangered half-bloods. We both knew that Octavian wasn't to be trusted, and Percy apparently realized the situation was out of his control. He _had_ to free Castellan."

"Where did they even go?" argued Annabeth determinedly. Leo threw up his hands in surrender. _I tried_, he thought. "Where were these supposed half-bloods in danger? Percy wouldn't have done something that dangerous if he didn't have all the facts." Leo thought about that one. Judging by what he'd heard about the Hero of Olympus, you couldn't get any more impulsive, but he held his tongue. And wisely, too. Annabeth was on a roll. "Luke always has a hidden agenda, I'm telling you. He can't be trusted. And you let my boyfriend, your _praetor_, run off with him half-cocked! By what I've already heard, Percy wasn't in his right mind when he did this. Why didn't you keep him under lock and key like you do to most crazy people?"

Leo couldn't hold it in. He burst out laughing. Several people joined in, and soon the room was filled with hysterical laughter, which cut the edge off a bit. But then Leo had to shut up and let the girls talk, and it returned to its normal, heavy state.

Frank cut in again, on his feet at the defense of his praetor and his camp. "Percy knew what he was doing, and frankly, the fact you don't trust him makes me question his judgment on picking _you_ as his girlfriend! And Percy was going to Mount Othrys. That's where everything's going down. We don't know much, but according to Percy, it's big. And we've got the feeling half-bloods are being held prisoner there." Annabeth sat down abruptly, surprising everyone. Leo quickly found out why.

"My gods," she muttered. "They're bringing back the dead."

* * *

Luke slammed on the car horn angrily, pissed that traffic was backed up so badly. He could see Mount Tam looming in the distance, and what were the mortals doing while their world was about to crash around their ears? Crashing into each other on major bridges.

"You son of a..." he shouted out the window, but a hard impact to his arm stopped him mid-sentence. He glanced down at little Emily and winced. "Hey, kid." He looked up at Percy and rubbed his arm. "That was a little hard, don't you think?"

Percy rolled his eyes. "You're the one that thought it would be fun to bring a bunch of little kids along for the ride, Luke. That comes with a certain degree of self-restraint."

"Listen to you," Luke teased. "I bet Annabeth can't wait to make you the father of her children." Percy shot him a dark look and Emily let out with an indignant "EW!" covering her ears and tucking her head in between her legs.

"There's no guarantee I'll ever see Annabeth again, let alone make her the mother of any kids I may or may not have in the future." Luke raised an eyebrow. Percy seemed to have become suddenly very diplomatic and...wordy. Annabeth would have called it a good change, but Luke knew it meant something bad. It meant Percy had changed.

The Hero of Olympus seemed like a different person from the happy teen Luke had grown accustomed to fighting with. Now he was bitter, short, and unpredictable. Sometimes, he barely said anything more than a few choice words, and the next moment he sounded like a damned lawyer. "...children I may or may not have..." Since when did Percy Jackson use that kind of careful language? Luke decided that good or evil, the Romans needed to stay away from Percy long enough for him to return to normal.

To pass the time, Luke had asked Percy to tell him a couple things about Camp Jupiter. So far, he'd found out about a couple nameless friends, a dangerous quest, and his amnesia. He also knew Gaea was a big problem, which made sense. He didn't think Atlas alone could cause this much disaster alone. But aside from that and maybe a couple other hints Luke couldn't immediately conjure to memory, Percy had remained a closed book.

But it didn't take a genius to know Percy and Annabeth were involved. Luke remembered how intent they were on each after the war was over, and he figured that if they weren't already together, it was only a matter of time. It was only cruel twist of fate they'd been separated like they had. But he knew that if it was the last thing he did, he'd make sure Annabeth and Percy were reunited...in life.

"And besides, what makes you think Lamia was telling the truth? She's a monster. She was probably just trying to throw me off my game." Percy leaned against the door and stared out the window. Luke groaned.

"What is with you?" he demanded. "I might not have been your closest friend before, but I'm pretty sure you didn't act like this." Percy didn't answer. "Come on," Luke demanded, slamming into the horn again. An obscene comment was shouted at him from one of the other cars. "Hey, watch it, asshole! There's a kid in here." Percy's head snapped over, and Emily made a small sound.

The son of Poseidon shook his head and asked Emily to go to the back. "Big brother Luke and I have some serious things to talk about. Can you go play with Tommy?" Emily nodded enthusiastically and climbed into the back. "Be careful!" he called protectively, shaking his head at the thud audible from the front seat when Emily hit the floor of the back loudly. Both demigods winced.

Luke grimaced at Percy's serious glare. "What?" he muttered.

"First off, you have no grasp on alternative curse words. And secondly, you have no right to probe into my private life." Luke gapped at him.

"_Private life_," Luke echoed in disbelief. "Percy, you're a freaking hero of Olympus. You don't have a private life." Percy let out a suppressed scream and hit the dashboard. Hard.

"I've lost _everything_, you idiot. Don't you think I deserve a little bit of time to think things over...alone?" Luke laughed bitterly.

"Wake up call, Perce. You don't get to think things over. Not for a long time, at least. We've got a war to fight, remember?" Percy actually screamed this time, and tears accompanied the yell.

"Has it ever occurred to you, Luke, that maybe I don't want to fight a war? Has it ever occurred to _anyone_?" Percy looked away, his muscles tight in controlled rage. "My entire life has been one fight after another. First I had to fight in school. Then I had to fight my stepfather. Then I had to fight monsters. Then I had to fight gods. Then I had to fight Kronos. Now I have to fight Mother-_freaking-_earth and all her godsdamned children, plus the fact that people don't seem to want to stay dead. And the worst part of it all, the worst part of _my life_, is that nobody cares about the fact that I don't want to fight any more than they do. They count on me to lead them into battle, and it doesn't dawn on _a single one_ that I might not want to fight 24/7. I've never gotten a break or a chance to rest. And the second things start going back to normal, the _moment_ I let down my guard, everything falls apart again. How are you supposed to live a life in constant shambles?

"Why does everyone think I like bloodshed? I hate it. I hate so much it's not even funny, and nobody cares. Not even Annabeth gets it. She thinks I'm such a courageous hero, and every time my nerve falls just _a little bit_, she starts calling me a coward. No one calls the Aphrodite campers or Demeter campers cowards when they don't want to fight. No one complains even when Clarisse tells them she needs a break. So why can't _I_ get a vacation once in a while? And don't tell me it's because I'm a son of Poseidon, because Thalia doesn't get drilled as much as I do. And it doesn't make any sense why I have to deal with everything. And when everything gets too much, I don't have the luxury of showing weakness or crying or grieving, because people are counting on me. I don't get to pull over and shed a couple tears. I don't get the R & R the soldier coming home from Iraq do. No, I get to deal with a constant, unlivable, merciless hell!

"And Camp Jupiter wonders why I tried to kill myself." The last was a lot quieter than his prior ranting, and it left Luke even more at a loss for words than he had been before, when Percy was first starting.

Frankly, it had honestly never occurred to him why Percy sometimes seemed distant and unreachable, and now he knew. Percy couldn't relax after killing a monster, because every second of his life was dominated by the fear that if someone saw how truly weak and vulnerable he was, they would exploit it. And he doubted anyone else ever had either.

Luke suddenly realized why Percy was so different. Everyone had a breaking point, he supposed, and Percy's was just higher than others. Luke knew he had caved under far less pressure, and Percy literally had the fate of the world riding on his shoulder almost constantly. Whenever a problem arose, Percy was expected to deal with it, however major or catastrophic. It didn't matter Percy was breaking apart inside, or that the only times he dared cry were where no one was looking. Percy was the hero. Percy had to fix it.

And finding out that the weight of that might have been just enough to send the son of Poseidon tumbling over the edge made Luke question everything he had previously thought. For the longest time, he had resented the hero. The guy who always got the girl and the gold and the mob of loyal friends willing to die beside him no matter what. But not once had it ever occurred to him to be on the other side of the spectrum. Fame and fortune came with a price, apparently, and Percy had been forced to unwillingly pay it.

And the price was his sanity.

Suddenly, a frantic yelp interrupted Luke's sympathetic thoughts. He saw a girl with black hair and ratty clothes running around the cars, a foamy mouthed hellhound jumping up on the roof of an abandoned sedan, much to the nearby owner's objection. "Control your dog!" he called, shaking his fist angrily.

The girl planted her feet squarely, looking around desperately for some place to turn. When the hellhound lunged, she rolled underneath a car and popped up behind it, covered in oil.

Luke exchanged a look with Percy, whose expression hardened into the normal gladiator determination Luke remembered from before. It dawned on him that that could very easily be the only similar thing between the old Percy Jackson and the new one.

They jumped out of the truck, slapping the side to tell the kids to stay quiet, and ran off to help her, drawing weapons.

The girl cried out when the hellhound landed on top of her, teeth bared, but Luke kicked it off. Percy jumped into action, slashing downward with Riptide, but the hellhound dodged. The dog snarled at Percy, and to Luke's surprise and fear, Percy snarled back.

The hellhound leapt into the air, sailing through shadow, and racked its claws across Percy's face. The son of Poseidon cried out, dropping his sword in pain, and held the wound, which was bleeding excessively. The hellhound now stood on the hood of another car, legs bunched in preparation for another lunge. Percy was still dazed from the injury, holding his face from agony.

Luke was about to stop the monster, but he was still too awkward with Roman-style weapon to move fast enough. The hellhound flew through the air again, an unstoppable cloud of black descending on top of Percy Jackson, who only had enough time to throw up his arms in alarm as the thing came down on him.

But it never made it.

The previously distressed girl had plunged into action, picking up Percy's fallen sword and thrusting it through the chest cavity of the hellhound. It burst apart in a shower of gold dust spread too far between the cars to reform.

For a moment, not a single person spoke. Then Percy looked at the girl in gratitude. "Thanks," he breathed. "I was sure I was a goner." The girl laughed and nudged him in the arm. It was so obvious a flirt Luke was shocked Percy hadn't seen it. Then again, Annabeth had been hinting at him for years and he'd never realized it.

"Don't sweat it," she told him. "I'm Lily, by the way. Lily Richardson." She offered her hand, and Percy shook it solemnly.

"Percy Jackson," The girl tensed visibly. "Is something wrong?"

"What?" she asked a little too quickly. "No, nothing. I'm just sure I've heard your name before." Percy nodded bitterly.

"You probably have." He told her with a sigh. "I've been in the news a couple times. But that doesn't matter." Percy drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "This is going to sound really weird, but do you anything about the Greek or Roman gods?"

Lily laughed dryly. "Do I know anything about the Gree...I've got news for you, pal. I live, breathe, sleep, and crap the Greek gods." All three of them cracked up a little bit at her comment. She tossed her hair over her shoulder flirtatiously and smiled at Percy. Another complete miss.

And he'd yelled at Luke when the empousa was flirting with him. Complete hypocrite.

"Well, yeah, I guess you already know you're a demigod then?" Lily smiled and placed a hand on Percy shoulder, shaking her head.

"Daughter of Demeter," she said proudly. "And no, I'm not that much of a tree hugger. I just think mortals are stupid for cutting them down." Both Luke and Percy laughed.

"You'd get along great with Grover." They both said at pretty much the same time. Lily stepped back, a little surprised. Luke leaned away from Percy, kind of wierded out by the unison speaking. "We need to spend less time together." Luke decided. Percy nodded, shaking his head.

Lily laughed again. "I'm guessing you two are friends?" Percy shuddered, which was more than a little insulted.

"How about unwilling partners by circumstance?" Luke growled at him, but that only earned him an elbow to the stomach. "Anyway, we'd give you a ride out of here, but we're kind of stuck and..." Traffic started moving forward again miraculously. "Okay, we're heading into San Francisco. Not out,"

Lily smiled pleasantly and locked elbows with Percy. "What a pleasant surprise," she purred. "So am I. Now then, I don't like not knowing who I'm travelling with, so..." Percy started to walk back to the truck with her, but Luke immediately felt a surge of suspicion rush toward her.

"Percy!" he called. "Can I talk to you real fast?" Percy looked a little confused but excused himself from Lily's side and walked over. The girl stood around with her arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently.

"Don't take too long!" she called. "I'm on a schedule!" Percy waved at her and walked over to Luke, clearly ticked.

"What?"

"Remember when you stopped me from making a complete ass out of myself in front of a bunch of monsters when I didn't realize when we in their diner?" Percy nodded warily. "Well, I'm returning the favor."

Percy gaped at him. "Wait, you think Lily's a problem? Luke, she saved my life. We owe a ride into the city." Luke shook his head, sending a dark look toward the girl.

"I don't buy it." he told Percy in a hushed voice.

"Buy what?" the son of Poseidon demanded.

"The act!" he snapped. "She's lying about something, and I want to know what." He redirected his attention back to Percy and realized he'd completely lost him.

"She's not acting, and she's not lying. She almost died, for crying out loud! She's a little unsettled, but..."

"That's just it." Luke cut in. "She isn't unsettled. She isn't in shock. She's taking us in stride, like we're nothing at all. Have you ever known a half-blood that collected after an attack like that?" Percy raised his eyebrows.

"You're right." He said sarcastically. "It's not like everyone at Camp Jupiter couldn't do the exact same thing."

"Percy," Luke warned, but he wasn't listening.

"You know what, Luke; I am fed up with you. I'm tired of listening to your commentary on how I'm living my life, like your opinion matters to me anyway. Lily is a perfectly decent person, and you're all of the sudden on her case. Now, I don't know about anyone else, but that sounds more than a little like your old ways to me. Now if you would excuse me, I've got a world to save. Again,"

With that, Percy stormed off back toward Lily, who smiled happily when he led her back to the truck and got in, honking for Luke. Reluctantly, the son of Hermes ran over to the truck, drivers yelling at him as he crossed in front of them. But when he got in, he could have sworn he saw Lily wink at him.

And her fiddling with a knife in her lap.

* * *

**Can anyone guess who "Lily" really is? By the way, Anne's mother has already been correctly guessed, so the rest of you will just have to speculate until I reveal the truth. **

**And this is an unbelievably long chapter, everyone. It's one of those connecting, boring, introductory ones, so I tried to make it interesting as well as long. I had to cram a lot of stuff in here, so the length was necessary.**

**And this was also a bit of a recap of what's happened throughout the story. I know that it seems to almost have gone off on a tangent, so I felt the need to remind my devote readers what has happened so far. I'm figuring on putting up an incredibly hilarious Half-Blood Quip next, because the following chapter is more than a little dark.**

**As far as the increase of language, I figured I could be a little more realistic with the language in this because of how heavy it is. **

**Despite everything I tried to do in this chapter, for the sake of time, I couldn't put in everything. It's sad, I know, but next chapter is going to have a lot of overview of events that haven't been previously detailed in the story for sake of time. I'll try to make it good without making it overly long. I figure reading this thing off the internet has to be hard, considering its massive volume. Double the average lengths. Really sorry about that.**

**I'm starting to wind down on this thing, believe it or not. I realize I just kind of threw in a new problem, but this will be resolved pretty quickly. **

**And I'm taking a poll. I will not continue with this story until I have a minimum of ten votes on this, guys, and I'm serious. I need to know what you think. Should I kill off Anne? And should she stay the bad guy? Those of you who read the sick and twisted chapter describing her messed-up life, you know what she's gone through. And do you want to give the character a chance or would you rather I, for lack of a more appropriate phrase, "do her in?" I need these votes, and I will take a tally after to see who wins out. You'll find out who her godly parent is soon enough, I promise. **

**Remember, vote. And if any of you have any ideas how to incorporate Sam into this, please tell me. She's an important individual, but I need to get her introduced to Percy, and fast. **


	25. HalfBlood Quip 4

**Travis Stoll and "The Guide to Surviving Dating at Camp-Half Blood"**

It was one of those days. You know, the ones where it's raining outside and you're stuck in your cabin with nothing at all to do; not even prank you're depressed siblings?

I didn't even understand why it was raining. Then I remembered how angry Chiron had been at us about the food fight in the Mess Hall, and I figured this was our punishment. Extreme boredom.

I was fidgeting with a yo-yo, Connor snoring loudly on the chair next to my bed. Across the room, Brenda, my half-sister, was fiddling idly with her creepy knife. In the far back, Chris was furiously scribbling something on a piece of paper, and then crumbling up said piece of paper and tossing it out into the rain. There were about fifteen others all doing note-less stuff and hating out boring lives.

"There's got to be something we can do." Brenda declared suddenly, slamming her knife down on the table so suddenly everyone, including my lazy older brother, snapped to attention. I eyed Brenda warily. I knew she'd already been claimed as a daughter of Hermes, but sometimes I thought she was closer to another Clarisse than another member of the Tag-Team Pranksters.

It was the Hermes cabin's nickname. Don't ask, it's too long a story to go into.

Chris shot into the air and cursed. "Come on," he whined. "That was my best one yet." Dejectedly, Chris threw away the flawed paper and restarted on another one, muttering under his breath.

"I'm bored out of my mind." Brenda told us. "We can't go outside. We can't prank anybody. We can't do anything worthwhile. There has got to be something we can do to pass the time." I sighed and shook my head.

"Have you got any ideas?" I asked her. She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again it defeat. "Face it. For the first time in forever, we're stumped."

"We are not _stumped_." She spat. "This is just like writer's block. All we have to do is think a little bit." Chris called out in anger.

"Speaking of writer's block, I've been working on this note for hours. You'd think being the son of the messenger god and all; I'd be able to write a stupid love letter!" Eyes turned. Chris looked like he was eating his words and swallowing them whole. "Er...did I say love letter? I meant...plan for an awesome prank. Yeah, this is going to be epic, and..."

I picked up one of the discarded papers and read the first line. "Oo," I taunted, bouncing up and down on my bed while reading the note. "Clarisse, your angry threats are the light of my day. You make my life complete. I..."

"Give me that!" Chris shouted, red-faced, as he snatched the note from my hand. "That's private!" I laughed hysterically.

Connor, however, being the responsible older brother, looked sympatheticly toward Chris. "It's getting pretty serious, then, huh?" Chris didn't answer. He stomped back to his bed and flopped down. "Do you even know how to talk to her?" Chris shouted something obscene back at Connor, who busted up completely.

"I've got it!" I declared, having one of those light bulb moments and surging to my feet, classic inventor poise. "The Guide to Surviving Teenage Demigod Girls! Everything single guys need to know about picking up chicks in Camp Half-Blood."

There was a lot of throat clearing from the girls in the cabin. Brenda crossed her arms. "I like the idea, Travis, except us _women_ need a little help with managing you boys. Am I right, ladies?" There was a lot of enthusiastic agreement from the female population of the cabin.

Just then, the door burst open, Percy Jackson standing perfectly dry, but panicked, in front of the shut entrance. "Help me!" he screamed desperately, running over to me and grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and shaking me. "Help me, Travis. I'm begging you."

My eyes were about as wide as they could get. I gently pried his arms off of me, awkwardly noting he had been working out. "Yeah, okay. Sure, whatever. Just don't ever do that again." Percy nodded quickly, running back to the door and pushing a dresser in front of it. "What is your problem, anyway?"

"Girls," he said breathlessly. It was obvious he had been running all the way to our cabin. "The Aphrodite girls have made my life a living hell! They've made this poll for all the cabins to take about who would be my 'perfect girlfriend.' And now, Drew is trying to kill me." I laughed.

"I find that difficult to believe, Perce. I mean, Drew kind of has a crush on you." Percy nodded.

"Exactly. Annabeth is still on Olympus, and thank the gods she is. If she was here, I don't want to think about what that demon spawn would do." I broke up completely at that point.

"Are you telling me Drew is trying to win you over?"

"Her and practically every other single girl in Camp. Why do they want _me_? I'm already taken." Brenda cut in there, laughing her head off.

"That's just it, isn't it? Before you started dating Annabeth, you were the catch of Camp, but nobody was really trying that hard to get you, what with the war and all. But once you were involved, all anybody could think about was getting you to kiss them." Percy stared at her in horror. "Not me!" she cried indignantly. "Do I look like some pathetic pre-teen determined to date whoever takes her? Come on, guys come after _me_."

I laughed. "So you think, Brenda dearest. So you think."

"Hey!" Connor cried out suddenly. "Does anybody else realize what just happened?" I stared at him. "We just got our first tip!"

"You're right!" I cried out. "Does anybody have a piece of paper?"

All eyes turned to Chris, who was still scribbling frantically on his notepad. He looked up at our greedy eyes and hugged the paper to himself. "Oh no," he said. "This is mine."

I exchanged a look with everyone else in the cabin. "Sic him." I ordered, and all at once, the cabin leapt into action and pried the notepad from his tight, desperate fingers. Several minutes passed, in which time Chris hit me in the jaw and several other Band-Aid needs arose. But eventually, I held the yellow paper in my hands victoriously, Chris looking defeated.

I ripped off the top paper, which was mostly written in surprisingly neat script. Chris let out a traumatized yell as it floated to the ground, and I'm fairly sure he was about to cry. Percy stared at us in horror. "You people are animals. Why do you want that notepad so bad anyway?"

I smiled expansively, walking over to Percy and throwing my arm around his shoulders. I had to reach up because Percy was like, four inches taller than me, but the intention wasn't lost. "Percy, Percy, Percy..." I tsked my tongue and chuckled. "Haven't you ever wondered if there was a better way to deal with girls?" Percy stared at me.

"Have you already forgotten why I'm here?" he asked doubtfully. I shrugged.

"True," I conceded. "But what if I told you my cabin is about to write the Holy Grail of Dating Manuals?"

"I'd call you nuts."

I scowled. "Whatever. Anyway, this is going to be the perfect collection of tips to understand demigod teens and the emotions thusly correlated. With this, you could win over every single Aphrodite girl..." Percy shuddered. "Or," I added mischievously. "Chase them all away." That quirked his curiosity. He nodded. "Alrighty then," I rubbed my hands together. "Let's get started. So, Tip number one, taken guys are more desirable to single girls."

"Oh please," Brenda scoffed. "Guys are the exact same way and you know it." Percy scrunched up his nose.

"I've never been like that." He said defensively. Brenda stared at him, and then shrugged.

"Well apparently, you're not a guy." Percy raised an eyebrow and glanced down. Brenda made a gagging motion. "I didn't mean...oh, come on, Percy! That's disgusting!" Percy started cracking up and I was rolling on the ground in laughter.

"Alright," I gasped. "We need the second tip. Anyone have any ideas?" I looked around at everyone, waiting for someone to suggest something. I mean, it's not like all Hermes children were doomed to never date someone.

But no one said anything. Eventually, we all turned back to Chris. "Yo, Rodriguez!" called Brenda. "You're not dead yet. How'd you do it?" Chris looked confused enough to look up from his sulking.

"What are you talking about? You mean with Clarisse?" We all nodded. Even Percy looked interested. "Well, I guess...well, I...I don't argue with her. I always lose when I argue with her. And it usually hurts when I argue with her." he rubbed his arm for emphasis.

"Well, there you have it." I declared. "The key to winning the heart of girls is to not argue with them."

"Not so fast," Percy cut in. "If I didn't argue with Annabeth at all, she wouldn't give me the time of day." I shook my head.

"But you never win." Percy shrugged.

"I do every now and again." Then he smiled. "The rewards are great." I grimaced.

"TMI, Perce, TMI." Percy looked up sharply.

"What? You think...No! Gods, no. Yuck. We're sixteen, Travis. Get your head out of the...eh." Percy shook his head. "Anyway, you can't make sweeping generalizations like that. It's like a stereotype, and if there's one thing girls don't like, its stereotypes." I found myself listening intently to the man who was the virtual master at romance in that room. After all, anyone who can capture the heart of a girl like Annabeth Chase had to be good. "You just have to know who you're dating. That's the big thing. I've known Annabeth for years, and that's probably the only reason we're still together. I mean, think about it. The less you know somebody, the harder it is going to be to keep up a serious relationship."

"So what? Are you suggesting we date our best friends?" George, another sibling of mine, sounded disgusted. "That takes all the fun out of it."

"No it doesn't." Percy told him. "I've known Annabeth for a long time. I could probably write a biography about her, but now that we're dating, it's just like before, only...I don't know. It's better. More rewarding, I suppose."

"Plus all the making out." Some nameless individual piped up from nowhere. The voice sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"What? No! I mean, yeah, but, no! Urg, why do you people make things so difficult on me?" Percy buried his face in his hands, defeated. Then the air rippled and Annabeth Chase was standing in the middle of the gathered crowd. There was a collective scream as she bent down and kissed Percy lightly on the lips.

"I already told you, Seaweed Brain. I'm never going to make anything easy on you."

Just then the rain stopped. Everyone cheered. We all rushed outside, but I hung around, watching Annabeth and Percy talk happily, Percy about as red-faced as it could get, Chris in the corner furiously writing his love letter to Clarisse. It looked kind of...romantic.

I started thinking that maybe you didn't need a guide to dating. You just had to find someone you loved.

"Nah," I decided, calling after Connor and running to play another prank on the Demeter cabin.

**I seriously hoped you cracked up as much as me. That was fun to write! And it had a bit of a sappy ending, I know, but the story is so depressing with Percy and Annabeth being separated and all the rest of that I thought it would be nice to include a little bit of the good stuff. And I'm sorry to all you people who are reading this and calling me blasphemous and wrong, because I've never dated anyone before, and no, I don't intend to start anytime soon. The reasons I just named in this short story are exactly why. **

**So I've been waiting to get votes on Anne's fate, but nobody's stepping up to the plate, so I already know what I'm going to do and the rest of you can deal. So the next chapter is a major cliff-hanger, and if you're reading Forgotten Fear, that one is too. Sorry, but I'm feeling a little evil today. Chapter 22 will be record dark and probably painful to read, so brace yourself and read this over a couple time so you can laugh. Because you're going to need it before you forge ahead, just FYI.**

**So, I hope it made you laugh. It sure did me.**

**And voting on Anne's fate to come. As well as Sam. Remember. **

**Thanks. And review. **


	26. Chapter 22: Warning! Sad and Depressing

**I was gone for a while, wasn't I? Sorry, I was working on Forgotten Fear and after 16 of that decided to go on hiatus. Speaking of hiatus, this is the last chapter of No More Death I will be writing for a long time. You might want to read the last Half-Blood Quip before reading this so you can laugh a bit. It's pretty depressing. **

**Chapter Twenty-Two: Martyr**

Piper couldn't believe half of what was happening.

It seemed that Camp Jupiter was split in half-between the anti-Greek First and Second Cohorts and the remaining hospitable three. That should have meant the three other Cohorts had the upper hand and could easily lay down the law with the upstarts who used to follow the traitor Octavian, but sadly, the First and Second Cohorts seemed to have just as many as all the other three plus several practicing retirees from New Rome.

Piper and Annabeth both wanted to see the thriving metropolis in the middle of the war camp, but Reyna had flat refused to let them. She said it was too dangerous to risk and the unrest building in camp could easily be the death of them both. That only added to Annabeth's growing impatience. Piper had never seen her so restless; not even when she was first searching for her boyfriend. But now that she had nothing to go on plus the knowledge that he was amnesiac, confused, and partnered with a known traitor of Olympus, she was going out of her mind.

Piper noticed that Annabeth's way of dealing with her high emotions was diving headfirst into a pile of blueprints and drawing to her heart's content. Leo, the undead son of Hephaestus Piper both wanted to kill and hug and never let go. She hadn't been able to corner Leo yet and make him tell me what had happened, which was seriously annoying. She thought he was dead!

She did, however, find herself smiling whenever she caught him talking to Augusta, his new friend. She wasn't bad-looking, but she wasn't beautiful or even out of his league. That was what made the obvious romance blossoming between the two of them so surprising. Leo always went after girls who would never give him the time of day, and here Augusta was, laughing at his jokes, nudging him flirtatiously with her shoulder and generally making passes at him. Of course, Leo completely missed said passes. Men.

Of course, thinking about romance only reminded Piper of the fact that Jason obviously had some kind of previous relationship with his co-praetor Reyna. The two of them had a nasty habit of glancing briefly at each other, turning a guilty red, and then immediately concerning themselves with something besides one another. She couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly jealous and see red whenever she felt Jason was close to Reyna. And it was getting harder and harder for her by the day not to corner the daughter of Bellona and give her a piece of her mind.

But Piper refused to interfere in Jason's love life like that. Granted, they were dating, but they'd become involved during a time where Jason was vulnerable. He hadn't even remembered Reyna. To a certain degree, Piper was responsible for pushing the issue with him, and Jason had eventually caved. But still, if Jason had only told her he was remembering a love interest from his past, Piper would have stopped. She was sure of it.

So she had finally decided what she was going to do. She was going to talk to her boyfriend.

While wandering around Camp Jupiter, she stumbled across Hazel and Nico, who were arguing loudly.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry I lied!" Nico screamed, accenting his words with his hands. Piper could hear an edge of hysteria to his voice.

"Nico," Hazel said calmly. "I'm not talking about that. I've already forgiven you. I told you that. But you need to talk to someone. What happened with Octavian..." Nico whirled around on his sister.

"I'm fine, Hazel." He snapped. "Alright? I was a little confused for a while, but..."

"Nico, you can't just recover from something like that. You have to talk about it." Nico opened his mouth to argue, but Hazel cut him off. "You fainted! You fainted you were so guilty. You can't just move on from that overnight! Please, Nico, talk to me!" Hazel reached for her brother, but he stepped back, out of her reach.

"What do you care?" he hissed. "You and everyone else here hate me. The only difference is that you keep pretending to still trust me. Frankly, that's just cowardly." Hazel was crying freely now, trying to reason with Nico, but he wasn't listening. He had his back turned to her and was storming away.

"I'm not pretending to forgive you or trust you, Nico! I do trust you! I love you! You're my brother!" But Nico wasn't even acknowledging her existence anymore. He started blending into the shadows when Jason, the man Piper had been searching for, stepped in front of him.

"Will you listen to your sister, Nico? She's trying to help." Nico sneered at him. Piper ran over to try to defuse the situation a little, but Nico just shoved aside the son of Jupiter and he staggered. "Nico!" Jason called, and Hazel joined in. But he'd already shadow-traveled away. Whatever he was going through, he'd have to go through alone.

Hazel was in hysterics. Frank, her boyfriend, came over and wrapped her up in his arms, walking her away while she sobbed shamelessly into his shirt. Frank looked just as traumatized and grief-stricken as everyone else, if not more. Piper didn't blame him. She'd hurt that in less than a year, he'd lost his mother, grandmother, childhood home, been claimed as a son of Mars, gone on a quest, nearly died, fought a giant, fought a war, and now he had lost his best friend and his sister's only living relative. It must have been a lot to handle. But Frank insisted that compared to what Percy had gone through, his trials were pitiful and meaningless. Piper could hardly imagine what someone would have to go through for that to be the case.

Seeing the romantic, sweet scene of Frank escorting his girlfriend someplace she could cry undisturbed made Piper's heart do a little tap dance. And the fact her arm was brushing against Jason's only made it all that much worse.

"Hey, Piper." Jason said huskily, bending down to kiss her. But Piper lifted up a finger and stilled his lips. Jason looked surprised and leaned back. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes," she sighed dejectedly. "Jason, yes there is something wrong. I can't tell if I'm just an obligation at this point or your actual girlfriend." Jason opened his mouth to say something, but Piper wasn't giving him any elbow room to interrupt. "With everything else that's going on right now, I can't afford to be distracted by whether or not you actually care about me any more than a friend. Any day now, Leo and the Romans could finish the Argo III and we'd be sailing for Rome to close the Doors of Death. And in the meantime, we have to worry about some kind of coup showing up and killing one of us because they don't like the idea of working with the Greeks. We're on the brink of not just war, Jason, but _civil_ war, and I have to know..." Piper took a deep breath and prepared to say the one thing she didn't want to say for fear of what Jason would say.

"Do you love me?"

Jason worked his mouth up and down like he couldn't figure out how to answer her. And then, as if things were tense or awkward enough, Reyna materialized next to Jason, looking forlorn.

"Jason," she said tersely. "I must speak with you about the matters of state at the moment. Despite the fact you are not praetor, you do have an idea of how to properly maintain the government as it stands and therefore..." Reyna trailed off when she realized Jason wasn't paying attention to her. He was still staring at Piper, clearly trying to answer her. But his silence was all she needed. And when he did glance over at Reyna wistfully, confusing the poor woman, Piper knew exactly what she needed to know.

And she could finally move on.

"It's alright." She told him, placing her hand on his arm. Strangely enough, after everything she'd done to keep Jason and to make him hers, she knew she couldn't chain him to her side. The old saying if you love someone let them go floated through her mind and she found herself smiling despite the momentous moment in her life. Jason would always be her first love, and that would never change. But maybe Piper could find someone else to love the same way, if not more. She wasn't getting a door to marriage and happiness shut in her face. She was just being forced to find a different door to use.

She turned to Reyna, the beautiful warrior that she was, and shook her hand. Reyna seemed too taken about to say anything. She just stared at Piper. "Have you lost your mind? Or are you merely becoming a victim of Venus' meddling?" Piper laughed dryly.

"No," she said. "Actually, I think for the first time I'm not living my life because of my mother. I'm living it in spite." Piper couldn't help but beam at Reyna. It was like a giant weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and now she was free to move as she wanted. It occurred to her that it was a good thing Jason didn't love her, because if he had, she wasn't sure wouldn't have been able to do what she knew she had to.

Cut her losses.

"Reyna," she said. "I don't know what's going to happen now, but whatever does come from this, I want you to know that you have my blessing. I'm not going to hold grudges or sabotage you or anything that one of my siblings might attempt. I'm actually happier this way. So good luck." Piper laughed dryly and turned to Jason. "You knew about Reyna for a long time, didn't you?" He nodded. "And you still didn't tell me?" He shook his head. "I know you took the parachute that should have been Leo's, Jason. And you know what?" Jason looked up, hope dawning in his eyes.

"I hate you for it!" Piper laughed almost manically, spinning around and throwing her hands up. "I couldn't hate you before because I was madly, hopeless in love with you. But now that I know you don't feel the same way, I'm free to feel for you the why I should. I don't like you, Jason. I loved you, but I don't like you." Then Piper turned back to Reyna. "I hope he treats you better than he did me, Reyna. I really do. Because you deserve to be happy, even if he doesn't."

"Piper!" Jason called.

Piper didn't even slow down when she turned to face him. "Goodbye, Jason. Finally. Goodbye."

That was when disaster struck.

"Watch your filthy tongue, graecus." A voice called from behind Jason. "You have no right to speak to one of Roman blood that way, even if he is a traitor." It was Octavian's successor, James. His dark hair was buzzed and his opal eyes twinkled sadistically. In his hand, he held an Imperial Gold knife. "You will never speak to a Roman like that again."

And the knife flew.

"Piper!" Jason screamed, appearing in front of her just before the knife met its target. So instead of sinking into her heart, it penetrated Jason's kidney. Jason's face froze the minute the weapon drew blood and collapsed in her arms.

"Jason?" Piper cried, temporarily shocked by the ordeal. James was tackled to the ground by the onlookers, Frank Zhang with an arrow notched and pointed at his head. He wrestled with his kin, but they apparently didn't agree with his point of view.

"The Greeks are vermin! Parasites! Don't you see? They're here to destroy Rome's legacy! They must be stopped."

Reyna stepped forward and kicked him in the jaw. "You're as insane as Octavian. Just not as elegant a speaker." The praetor jogged back over to her fallen comrade, looking concerned.

"Ambrosia!" she called. "We need a healer!" Jason gasped and coughed. Piper face was sprayed with a sticky red.

"Oh gods!" she screamed, cradling his head in her arms. She remembered what had happened last time, when Hera had nearly killed him with her true form and Piper charmspoke him awake again. Maybe it could work again. "Jason, Jason," she said, making him look at her before his head lulled to the side. Piper was covered in his blood. He was bleeding so heavily, even with the knife still in his back. "Jason, please, listen to me. You are not going to die. Do you understand me? You will not die."

But Jason didn't seem to be responding. His eyes were glazing over, and he was growing cold. His breathing was short and shallow, the deepest ones no more than frantic wheezes through his insufficient airway. He was dying.

Piper knew why her charmspeak wasn't working. Before, when Hera had nearly killed him, the wounds had been deeper, almost mental, so Piper's charmspeak would work. But now, there was a physical wound sapping his strength, and there was nothing Piper could do.

"Piper," he gasped. "I-I do l-love you." He sucked in a deep breath, shocking Piper with his realization, and then stilled. He wasn't breathing.

Piper buried her face in his shirt. "Jason," she muttered. "I wish I still loved you too."

Percy was reading to run Luke through with Riptide.

Every time Lily said _anything_, Luke had some clever snarky remark to make about it. And the disappointed looks he kept shooting Percy's direction were both distracting and annoying. After everything they'd both gone through and after all the things Luke had done, Percy was ready to snap. He had no right to be condescending. He was about the single most gullible person alive.

Percy almost couldn't wait to reach Othrys just because it meant he was almost rid of the son of Hermes. He didn't even care if he died while fighting. As long as he didn't have to stomach those pitiful, sad glances anymore, he was happy.

Lily was snoring soundly in between Percy and Luke, dozing off on Luke's shoulder. The pure, immodest disgust on Luke's face was the last straw as far as Percy was concerned. "You have no idea how long she's been running, Luke. You of all people know how tiring that can be." Luke looked up at Percy, lip curled as he pushed Lily over onto his shoulder.

"Then she can sleep on you." He retorted. "She seems to like you more, anyway." Percy gaped at him.

"Is that what this is about? You're jealous?" Luke scoffed and stared out the window. "You have got to be kidding me. How old are you; five?" Luke glowered at him. "You're giving me the silent treatment. You can't possibly be serious."

"I'm not giving you the 'silent treatment.'" Luke snapped. "And no, I'm not jealous. I just know not to trust her." Percy shook his head.

"Really, Luke? And what are you basing this illogical distrust on?" Luke turned and stared at him.

"I am never going to get used to this." He said. Percy opened his mouth to ask what he meant, but Luke was already explaining. "You and your fancy words. I don't even recognize you anymore. And I don't trust Lily because I saw her fiddling with a knife earlier. And she looked pretty mischievous."

Percy rolled his eyes. "Wow, you're a hypocrite." He told him, white-knuckled the steering wheel so he didn't kill Luke. "She's a daughter of Demeter, for crying out loud. What is she supposed to do; vine me to death?" Luke gaped at him like he couldn't believe his stupidity.

"Were you not listening?" he demanded. "She has a knife. A knife, Percy! And I'm not entirely sure if it's only purpose is killing monsters." Percy let loose with a sardonic laugh and shook his head in disbelief.

"You cannot be serious." He sighed. "You are the single most paranoid individual I have ever had the misfortune to talk to. And that includes Octavian!"

"I'm fairly sure I was just insulted, but I can't be sure because you don't tell me anything! And you just missed the off-ramp, seaweed brain." Percy's vision turned red the moment Luke used his nickname.

It reminded him of Annabeth and the depressing chance that he might never see her again. Even if she was alive, what were the chances of Percy surviving this? According to Luke, there was a massive, unstoppable army of monsters patrolling that dark, shrouded mountain, visible in the distance, and Percy wasn't stupid or naive enough to believe Luke and him alone could combat that many and live to tell the tale.

But he had his hands tied. What was he supposed to do? It was exactly like he had told Luke before during the roadblock. He was the hero. He wasn't allowed to feel broken or hurt or cry because there was always someone watching. And the one time in his life he had let himself let go a little, Camp Jupiter was too damned demanding to give him a moment to grieve. He couldn't curl into a ball and let it out, even though he had lost _everything_. No, because he was the son of Neptune and he had to fix everything. Apparently, the fate of the entire world rested on his shoulders 24/7.

Percy bit his lips when the tears threatened to fall. Suddenly, Luke's expression softened and he smiled weakly. "What do you say I take over and you give yourself a break?" Luke hadn't meant to, but there was underlying condescension and pity contained within his voice, almost permissible because of the sincere compassion most prominent in his tone. But the bit there was was enough to throw Percy over the edge.

"I don't need a break!" he snapped, slapping Luke's hand away when he reached for the steering wheel. "And I don't need your sympathy. I don't even know why I told that stuff back there. It...It wasn't true." Luke laughed in disbelief.

"Oh no, you don't. You can't just take back something like that, Percy. You met every word, and frankly, you deserve to be pissed. You've gone through a lot, and you need to slow down and mull over it for a while. That's the only way the pain's going to get any better."

Percy whirled on Luke and Lily started to stir. The son of Poseidon, or more appropriately now, Neptune stared at her. He had forgotten she was there in and amidst his argument with Luke. "Is everything alright?" she yawned sleepily, stretching and blinking her eyes open.

"Yeah," Percy said darkly, staring daggers at Luke, who in turn was glowering at Lily with immoderate contempt. "Luke was just going to the back to check on the kids. Weren't you, Luke?" There was no room for argument. Luke's eyes snapped up to him and he opened his mouth, but closed it right afterward. He already knew there was no chance of Percy giving him forgiveness. None.

"'Course," Luke mumbled, unbuckling his seatbelt and squeezing himself through the hatch to the back. Unfortunately, Luke did not have quite the ungraceful descent as Emily had. Percy muttered colorful insults under his breath and stared at the road like he had a bone to pick with it.

Lily was quiet for a moment, but eventually she said, "So...you and your friend aren't getting along too well?" Percy sighed.

"I told you. It's more appropriate to say unwilling part..."

"-ners by circumstance. Yeah, I remember." Lily chuckled weakly. "Thanks for saving my ass, by the way. You'd think mortals would be a little more sympathetic to a girl fighting her life, right?" Percy laughed dryly.

"They probably thought you were some delusional kid. They can't see monsters, remember?" Lily shrugged and her stomach growled. "Hungry?" she nodded guiltily. "Don't worry about it. We should have some stuff in the back. Hey, Luke! Pass up the food!"

There was a lot of cussing and grumbling following Percy's order, but some fruit was handed through the passage to the back. "Thanks," Lily murmured, shoving her mouth with a banana. "And don't you have kids back there? You should really watch your language more carefully." Percy cracked a smile, nibbling on his apple.

"That's what I've been telling him." Lily flushed, and Percy felt her hand rest on his upper thigh. Instantly, he tensed, guilt rushing over him at the knowledge that Annabeth could still be alive.

He lifted her hand away, and Lily looked slightly offended. He swallowed and hurried into the speech he had been forced to use a couple times elsewhere. "Look, uh, you're pretty and all, but..."

Lily smiled. "You've already got a girlfriend, right?" Percy gulped and shook his head energetically, grateful for the relief of not having the awkward silence that usually followed a girl hitting on him. Lily blushed slightly and threw back her puffy hair, fidgeting with a few strands. "Don't worry about it. It's not like I'm gonna try to steal you away from her, it's just..." Lily bowed her head and looked away. Percy had a momentary flash of panic where it occurred to him Lily thought he had been flirting right back.

"I wasn't...leading you on or anything was I?" Lily looked over at him, sincerely shocked. She laughed weakly and squeezed his shoulder sympathetically.

"No, of course not. You're the picture perfect boyfriend. I just...I've had it rough, you know? It would be nice to find someone that actually cares about me. Like you have with your girlfriend." Lily bumped his shoulder playfully. "Whoever she is, she's a lucky girl to have snagged a catch like you."

Percy laughed. "No, _I'm _the lucky one. Annabeth is amazing. I love her dearly, it's just..." he stopped short, realizing what he had just said. His focused his eyes on the road, afraid to look over at Lily.

"Wait," she said. "Have you told _her_ that?"

"Told her what?" Percy asked innocently, trying desperately to avoid eye contact.

"That you love her," Lily probed. "That's not a lie and it's something to turn me off. That slipped out." Percy opened his mouth to argue, but Lily wasn't stopping. "Dude, you have got to give her a ring, honestly. Tell her. You're out here risking your life and she doesn't even know you're in love with her?" A moment of panic hit Percy when he realized he might have to admit to Annabeth's MIA status. Lily dug in her pocket and pulled out a cell phone. Percy almost panicked.

"You haven't used that thing recently, have you?" he demanded, almost swerving the truck in his alarm. Lily looked taken aback.

"Not recently, no. I haven't had a reason. But you are calling your girlfriend, I mean it. Here," she handed him the cell, but Percy immediately pushed it away. "I guarantee you the minute the words 'I love you' leave your mouth you're going to hear this Annabeth scream in excitement. It's not very likely she doesn't feel the same."

"Actually," Percy said hastily, remembering the animosity between their parents. "There's a very big possibility she doesn't feel the same. Our parents aren't exactly on the best of terms." Lily let out a painful hiss.

"Mortal or godly?" she asked hesitantly.

"Godly. My dad's Poseidon and her mom is..."

"Athena?" Lily cried. "Get out! You're in love with a daughter of wisdom?" she laughed.

"Keep it down," Percy said quietly, glancing back nervously. "Just so you know, Luke has a thing for her too, so if you would just..." Lily shook her head.

"She has got to be one heck of a beauty to catch the eye of two good-looking guys. And a son of Poseidon? No way. There has got to be bigger fish in the sea for somebody like you. Pardon the pun," she added teasingly, scooting over to the far door and leaning against it. "So, have you got any pictures?" Percy pursed his lips. Luke hadn't seen him looking at it yet, but Lily seemed genuinely happy for him and Annabeth. He pulled out his shredded wallet, which had been given to him by Hermes during his period of hopeless depression. He flipped it open and revealed Annabeth's picture. He was expecting something like, "I'm not surprised." but instead he got, "Oh you poor thing."

"What do you mean by that?" he demanded, ready to defend his girlfriend. But when Lily looked up at him, she didn't look like she thought Annabeth was ugly. Her eyes were filled with sympathy and brimming with tears.

Lily placed a hand on Percy shoulder and sighed. "I saw on the use...a group of hiker going through Berkeley Hills found that girl's dead body. Is her last name Chase?"

Instead of a second, Percy's world dropped out from under him. Annabeth was dead? Truly, completely dead? After he'd thought, maybe, she and the others had survived after his encounter with Lamia...despite his realist argument with Luke; he had been secretly praying Annabeth could still be alive. He seriously wanted that emotional reunion he'd been dreaming about for so many nights now.

Without even meaning to, Percy started crying. Horrible, heart-broken ransacked his body, and he shook by the improbability of it all. He'd also thought Annabeth would have to contend with his death, not the other way around. _He _was the trouble-magnet. _He_ was the guy who was constantly having near-death experiences. _He _was the one the Fates' had snipped the string in front of. So why was _Annabeth_ dead?

He felt Lily's hand work up and down his arms, muttering condolences. And then he heard, "Let me take the car. You need some time to grieve." It was the first time anyone had ever looked at him and asked him to take a break since his first quest. Ever since then it was work, work, work, fight, fight, fight. No time for Percy Jackson to cry or grieve or regret his decisions because there was always more to be made, and living in the past wasn't an option for him.

What no one failed to realize was that if they never let him come to terms with his past, how the hell was he supposed to move on?

He nodded and Lily switched places with him. Eventually, Luke came back up front, but at that point Percy retired to the back with the kids. He couldn't handle the looks Luke kept shooting his way, like he was some fragile glass piece that could shatter at any moment. Percy hadn't told Luke all those things so he could feel sorry for him. As a matter of fact, Percy wasn't even sure why he had told Luke all those things.

As the truck bumped along the road, Percy felt his entire body go numb. Like he was just a ghost held down by chains that he didn't have a key to but at the same time was completely separate from life. He wanted to curl into a ball and sob, but the kids didn't need to see that, so he just remained silent. Emily tried to make small talk, but he could hardly conjure up the smile to flash her way when he told her "Not now, kid."

For the first time in his life, Percy felt truly hopeless. It was like he was back in the Labyrinth after his flashlight had died. It was dark and winding and there was no map, no manual to tell him where to go. But he didn't have Rachel to see the shining lights in the ground this time. He didn't have Annabeth with her endless architectural knowledge to guide him through the newer to older parts of the maze. He didn't have Annabeth at all.

He stared at her picture. She was thirteen in it, in front of the Lincoln Monument with her arms crossed. He remembered the fact she had been redesigning Olympus before they met up at Camp Half-Blood for Christmas vacation. It was going to be a time for them to spend together, as a couple, like they were supposed to. The Great Prophecy was never supposed to be a part of it. Percy wasn't supposed to disappear and throw Camp into frenzy, as Hermes assured him had happened. He wasn't supposed to drive Annabeth nuts trying to find him. He wasn't supposed to go on a quest for the Romans and nearly die. He wasn't supposed to kill a Giant and an army of shades. That flying ship wasn't supposed to blow up. He wasn't supposed to go insane. He wasn't supposed to break out an accepted traitor to Olympus and go on a suicidal quest back to Mount Othrys. And Annabeth sure as hell wasn't supposed to die.

All Percy wanted at that point was to run out into the middle of the wilderness and scream, "Hey, Gaea! Here I am! You can kill me now!" But he knew Annabeth would be ashamed. She would call him a coward and tell him that they needed him back at the camps. She would insist he go back and live his life, even if she couldn't. She would call a seaweed brain.

He missed his nickname. After all the times he'd yelled at her for calling him that, he wanted nothing else in the world right then to hear it. From her mouth. And then to kiss her mouth and hug her and never, ever let go. Because Percy had found love, and then he had lost it.

"Better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all." A voice said in head. And the only response to it that he had was, "Try it sometime."

Suddenly, the truck came to a screeching halt. Percy perked up, alert, and heard Luke call his name from the front. He jumped up and ran out the back. What he saw when he got out was utter chaos.

A riot had broken out in front of the truck; a multi-car pile-up that made the one outside Camp Jupiter look like a gentle rear-ending. Drivers had gotten out of their cars and were...shooting at people. "Shit!" Percy screamed, temporarily forgetting himself as he dove in front of the engine when a particularly irate man started waving a shotgun around and firing randomly.

Luke and Lily crawled out of the car and crouched down next to him. Percy saw Emily running out to see what was wrong, but he screamed, "Get back in!" and she obeyed. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, glancing up over the engine block and seeing that the massive blow out battle wasn't getting any better.

"People aren't dying." Luke told him impatiently, sounding disgusted. "So the mortals are losing their minds and shooting everything. It's like they're trying to prove that people can die. It's barbaric." Percy stared at him.

"I'm not arguing whether or not it's barbaric, Luke. I want to know how to stop it!" Luke shrugged.

"Maybe if we manage to overtake Othrys we could cut off the central point here. It might stop the immortality rate." Percy almost broke up at "immortality rate," but considering what was going on, he didn't want to laugh.

"Well, how to we get to that stupid mountain if we can't drive?" he snapped, looking back over the engine block and ducking under just before a bullet tore past his head. It grazed his scalp and he called out in pain. "Damn it! I should never have crossed that stupid river!"

"What?" Luke demanded, staring at him.

"Never mind," he said hastily. "But we've got to get out of here. On the count of three, we make a run for it. One, two..."

"Wait!" Luke screamed. "What about the kids? We can't just leave them." Percy swore. He had forgotten about their charges.

"We'll have to get them down to the last off-ramp and get them off that why. It's risky, but not as much as leaving them here.

"Agreed," Luke and Lily said in unison. Luke shot her a dirty look and ran, crouched low, to the back of the truck. A few seconds later, over a dozen little kids ran out screaming as Luke escorted them away to safety. Percy and Lily ran after him.

Hours later, the three older demigods were sprinting up Mount Othrys, panting desperately as they cleared the steep incline. Luke was in the lead. "Come on," he urged, waving that they move faster with his hand before diving behind a rock. Percy and Lily started running faster, but suddenly they were launched back.

"What the hell?" Lily demanded, landing hard on her ass and swearing up a storm, rubbing her sore rear-end. "We can't get through!" Luke frowned, and then understanding passed over his face.

"It's because you're not dead." Lily stared at him, but Percy understood.

"Wait, are you saying there's some sort of...of force field around the mountain stopping the living from entering." Luke nodded, stepping back across. "That's...that's...that's..."

"Brilliant." Luke finished for him. "That why the only people inside are the ones the monsters can enslave and heroes like you stay out. It's genius, but it's also impossible to bypass unless someone gets in there and brings it down."

Percy stared at the invisible shield and hoped that alone would break it down. But of course not. "Then one of us needs to go undercover." He assumed. "It can't be you. They already know you, so..."

"Whoa, Percy, do you realize what you're saying? One of us would have to _die_ in order for that plan to work." Percy nodded. "Well, what the hell are we supposed to do? I can't go in because they know me..."

"I just said that." Percy pointed out bitterly.

"And you're a freaking hero." Luke looked at Lily, who immediately threw up her hands.

"Hey, don't look at me. I'm new to this stuff. I can't die." Luke threw up his hands in exasperation. "We're just gonna have to come up with another plan." Luke whirled around on her and laughed bitterly.

"No, Percy and I are going to come with a different plan. You are going to take a hike." Lily looked indignant.

"What? Hey, I've come this far, haven't I? Don't you think...?" Luke cut her off, and they started yelling at each, flailing their arms back and forth angrily. They must have been screaming at each other for an hour before it finally occurred to Percy what he would have to do.

Luke couldn't go in. It just wasn't an option. And Lily wasn't accustomed to any of this. Throwing her to the wolves without guidance was practically murder. That left one option.

Percy remembered when he had tried to kill himself before, and it had been a fit of madness and not a calculated act. Well, it had been planned, but he hadn't been entirely sane then. And he wasn't entirely sane now, but...There was no other choice. Either Percy died, or the world was thrown into chaos with no end.

Suddenly, Percy caught the glint of a knife lost in the rocks beneath his feet. He picked it up while Luke and Lily fought bitterly back and forth. It was a simple make, Celestial bronze, but otherwise plain. It had a wooden handle shaped like an hourglass, form fitted so that it conformed to Percy's hand with ease. The blade itself was narrow, like an icepick, but significantly longer. About seven inches, he estimated. More than enough to breach the ribs and drive into his heart.

He thought about the ramifications of what he was about to do. If it didn't work and he wasn't brought back like he thought, he'd just be dead. And he hadn't done what he was meant to yet. He probably wouldn't earn Elysium. He'd be stuck like Hazel in the Fields of Asphodel, wandering forever, not knowing who he was. But on the other hand, if he died, he might earn eternal happiness and peace with Annabeth. And he wanted nothing more than to be with the woman he loved.

So before Luke or Lily could stop him, and they had both seen the knife in his hands, he thrust that blade through his chest and cried out. As his world turned black, the last thing he thought was, _Annabeth, I love you and I always will._

**Did I not tell you? Unbearably depressing. I kind of rushed the end because this is freaking long and I didn't want to bore you.**

**By the way, if anyone can guess the movie reference in here and name what movie it's from, I'll give you a preview of the story of your choice, Forgotten Fear of No More Death. By the way, I'm turning this into a series of sorts. The next one will be Closing Death, and the final Cheating Death. Following this dynamic, the other name for The Lost Hero would be Close to Death and Son of Neptune Freeing Death. In other words, the order would be:**

**Close to Death**

**Freeing Death**

**No More Death**

**Closing Death and**

**Cheating Death**

**I just thought to include that for some absurd reason. Sorry about the hiatus on such a cliff-hanger, but I did do that whole "Percy confessing love for Annabeth" thing, so hopefully it makes up for it. **

**Please do continue reviewing despite this hiatus. I just need to get farther on my actual novel, and if I remain obsessed with Fanfiction I never will. I'll come back periodically, but it won't be regularly for quite some time. I'm sorry. I really am. Forgive me and bring on the insults. I deserve them.**

**-thein273**


	27. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Lies**

Irony had no place with the dead.

It was warm, amusing, and utterly full of the cruelty of life. Among those who no longer enjoyed the perks of that life or the pains included therein, irony was useless. It contained no lesson, no betterment, and no purpose other than to irritate and confuse. And thus, Nico di Angelo had no time for irony.

Killing monsters-now that he could make time for. Raising his sister from the dead was also always something he wouldn't hesitate to set aside a few decades for. Even helping his dad repave the roads of death for easier traversing and less traffic congestion, but ironic feelings of guilt-those were pointless. Completely pointless. So why should the Ghost King make time for it?

_Because if you don't, you'll go insane_. The voice of reason seemed to be constantly chiding him anymore, reminding him of the necessity of his murder and the hopeless situation both those surviving delegates from Camp Half-Blood and the entire population of Camp Jupiter would have found themselves in had Nico not slain Octavian before he could land the final blow on Frank Zhang.

It was true, of course. Frank's death would have been not only tragic but catastrophic. His part in the prophecy-however minute that part might be-was nonetheless crucial in the dynamic of the Seven. And Hazel's heartbroken state had Frank been killed would have thrown Nico into the throes of depression himself. Although Nico was anything but an empathic individual, he could not help but feel subject to the whims of his only surviving mortal relative's emotions. If Hazel was happy, he was vicariously happy. If she was worried, he was worried. If she was scared, Nico felt the overwhelming urge to kill things.

And Octavian had been a thing, his inner voice told him, bringing his mind off the tangent before he got the chance to redirect his thoughts another place and put off this reflection yet again. Nico didn't care that no one blamed him for his crime. It didn't matter to him that the blame did not lie in the hands of that small indeterminately-aged Italian boy. What mattered was the fact he felt the ever-present sense of guilt at what he had done.

And that brought him back to irony.

Because it was ironic that the son of Hades, King of Ghosts, Controller of the Dead and ambassador of all things death should feel guilty over killing a man who would eventually have might his sticky end either way. It was ironic that his act to preserve the laws of death and of life should leave him so comatose and numb. And it was ironic that Nico should fear the impending death he would doubtlessly face.

His ploy had already been discovered, although not in full, he suspected. Annabeth and the others knew of his involvement with Camp Jupiter for the sake of his sister, what they did not know-and he counted on this-what they did not know was that he had resurrected Hazel from the Fields of Asphodel and challenged the laws governing death. He had stood in spite of his father and spit at him as he carried his stunned sibling from the Underworld, leaning against him and dazed by her second chance at life.

But Nico knew that by challenging his father, he sealed his fate. Eventually, when Hades found out about what he had done, he would send out his minions and Nico would be forced to make his final stand. Because the Lord of the Underworld does not sit idly by while his upstart of a son undermine his carefully controlled laws. He wondered if Hades would have allowed him to pass unhindered through the Gates of Death had Nico been supporting the weight of his true sister, Bianca, and not the Roman whom he discovered wrongfully sentenced to nothingness for eternity. But Hades was the Greek god, and Hades seemed far more vengeful than his complacent, overlooking counterpart. Hazel had spoken of Pluto on occasion, and the differences between the two alleged representations of the same god were astounding to Nico. He knew his father to be inconsiderate, controlling, manipulative, conceited, self-invested, greedy, and above all else void of any and all forms of love, including compassion. In a way, an exaggeration of his son. But Pluto seemed to be, or at least portrayed the image of, a loving, caring, concerned and self-aware father also out for the gain of children and not just himself. It made Nico almost envious of his sister for the true difference between their heritage and the fact that she didn't have to put an effort to impress her dad, unlike Nico.

When he really thought about, Hazel and he truly weren't siblings. But it didn't matter. He loved her just the same.

But his fear over his father's doubtless revenge was overshadowed by his concern over Hazel's fate. He strongly suspected his death would come long before the fire and storm prophesized would ransack the world, but Hazel was destined to follow this thing through to the end. She would see Armageddon as it unraveled before her eyes and be forced to give her everything to stop Gaea from reaching to full power. And if it was anything like last time, the success and the failure of doing so would end in her death.

Nico could only pray Hazel could earn Elysium in the meantime.

Nico started fidgeting impatiently, remembering his outburst earlier. He hadn't truly meant the things he said, about Hazel pretending to still love him and all, but he had just been _so angry_. All he saw was red, and he still didn't understand why. Hazel had been nothing but compassionate and loving toward him, and her momentary loss of control when she slapped him had been her given right after what he had done to her and the fate of the world.

Because by masquerading as a Roman, Nico became a spy without intending to. And by becoming a Greek spy, Nico had somehow managed to convince several members of Camp Jupiter that Octavian had the right idea and allying with the Greeks was suicide. "They've _clearly_ been plotting against us for _years_," insisted certain members of the First and Second Cohorts, referring to Nico's occasional visits. Which was stupid, because Nico hadn't even been visiting the Romans for a year and now they were making it sound like he'd been gathering Intel for decades. "Information _has_ been leaking, you know. He must have done it." It didn't matter to them that the real snake had already been caught and dispatched. _Nico_ had to be setting the whole thing up to mislead them and Octavian was really on their side the whole time.

It was disgusting.

All of the sudden, Nico's anger flared without explanation. He drew a knife from his belt and threw it at the ground with a strangled yell. He was sitting on Pluto's shrine, legs tucked underneath him, until the manifestation of his rage. He surged to his feet as he chucked the Celestial blade toward the earth, standing so quickly his grip on the roof became compromised and he scrambled desperately, throwing his weight back onto the shingles to keep him from sliding the ten or so feet to the ground.

Breathing heavily and cursing himself for being so impulsive, he crawled farther up the roof, holding his chest and his pounding heart. A soft feminine chuckle turned his attention from his near-accident to Ariadne, who was smiling pleasantly on the ground.

Nico breathed a sigh of relief and picked up his Stygian iron sword, Shadow-Splitter, from the roof and hopped down. The controlled descent was significantly more heroic than his previous scrapping and panting. Ariadne's girly smile sent a dull tingle into Nico's toes. He felt an unfamiliar emotion around the Greek zombie. It was kind of fluttery and light and happy and should have had nothing to do with the inwardly depressed son of Hades. And yet, whenever Ariadne was around, Nico felt light on his toes and inexpressively overjoyed, like her presence dispelled all his worries and insecurities. He felt like singing when she was around.

And he was possibly the only man alive who was worse at singing than Percy Jackson. A word to the wise; never accidentally stroll into the showers when Percy's in there. You will go deaf for days.

Nico realized his thoughts had strayed far from the self-hurtful ones from before. Now he was smiling right along with Ariadne, and he couldn't help but feel lighter and carefree. As long as he was around her, his troubles seemed to evaporate.

"Can I help you, milady?" he teased, giving her a mocking bow and laughing. "Anything for the Princess of Crete." Ariadne had been giggling sweetly until he said the last, at which point her laughter died and he face darkened in the unmistakable expression of guilt. Nico stiffened. Something was wrong, and if someone had hurt Ariadne, he might be able to kill them without actually feeling remorse for the deed. No one touched Ariadne unless she gave them permission, and if they did...

"Nico," she said quietly, her musical, whimsical tone serious and frightening. The son of Hades swallowed fearfully and then braced himself to tear someone or someones limb from limb. Even if he had to go back in time to do it. "I have not been entirely truthful with you."

The sentence threw Nico for a loop. He started and watched Ariadne carefully, waiting for her to announce it was a joke or something, but then he scolded himself for thinking so. Ariadne never kid around. That was probably one of the best things about her; aside from maybe how accepting she was. "What are you talking about?" he asked warily, unsure of whether or not he wanted the answer.

"My name is not Ariadne." She told him solemnly, face turned down in shame. Nico stared at her for a long, thoughtful moment. He couldn't find anything to say, so he remained mute and just watched her, hoping for a sign that she was lying. "The real Ariadne is the bride of Lord Dionysus, immortal and undying as his wife. But I...I am nothing more than a kindly servant of her court. A slave of Crete. My true name is Dianthe."

If she had wanted to rip the world out from under Nico, that was exactly the way to do it. He couldn't believe his ears, or his eyes, or the fact that some distant part of his mind was telling him _I told you so_. His disbelief was fueled strictly from his aforementioned trust and respect for the woman he once believed the beautiful Princess Ariadne, but now discovered she was nothing more than a con-artist and peasant. Dianthe.

"Why did you lie to me?" he asked quietly, masking his rising anger with soft, reasonable tones. But Ariadne-Dianthe, he reminded himself-was no fool. She took a step away from him, and Nico shook from barely controlled rage. "Why the hell didn't you feel the need to tell me you were a fucking princess?" Dianthe called out and stumbled backward, tripping over something on the ground and falling.

Nico's eyes widened and he reached out to catch her, fingers intertwining as he caught her mid-descent. Holding her left hand while her right supported her against the ground, he pulled her back up. "Thank you," she said quietly, a smile playing with her lips. Until she saw the disgust spread across Nico's face, and her smile vanished. "Nico, I..."

"And they call me the liar." He spat at her, turning on his heel and walking away. Was there no one left alive Nico could trust? Ever since Bianca left him, Nico had no one to turn to or seek guidance from. And people wondered why he obsessed over bringing her back from the dead.

But Nico felt too betrayed to simply walk away from _Dianthe_. He whirled around and opened his mouth, a sting of insults ready on his lips, but when he saw Dianthe's downcast eyes and guilty, defenseless stance, he couldn't do it. Despite what she may have told him about her name, she was still the Ariadne he'd grown to trust and seek solace from. Solemnly, he walked back over to her and wrapped a pair of tentative, black-clad arms around her. Dianthe paused, startled, and gradually returned to gesture of affection.

"Why did you lie to me?" he whispered into her ear quietly, ignoring the questioning looks being directed toward him from onlookers. Dianthe tensed in his arms and he pulled away, grateful for the separation. His human interaction stats were exactly topnotch, and prolonged exposure of public displays of any emotion besides anger of exasperation had a tendency to freak him out more than a little.

Dianthe sniffled weakly, eyes watery with tears. Not knowing what he was doing, Nico reached up and brushed a descending tear from her cheek with his thumb. Both parties were shocked at his behavior, and Nico swallowed nervously. He didn't want to pressure Dianthe into responding, so he clasped his hands behind his back and stood in front of her, waiting.

Time wore on, and Nico found it getting increasingly more difficult to wait. His ADHD, although minor compared to that of Percy Jackson or Dakota Hals, was beginning to act up, and he couldn't help but shift from side-to-side. Then he began to sway, and eventually he felt like a pressurized air can waiting for someone to shake it.

Nico was staring intently at his feet, trying to make them stand still, when he heard Dianthe giggle. He looked up and saw a faint smile playing with the sides of her lips. She immediately directed her attention downward again. "You don't have to look so guilty." he told her. "I'm just as guilty as you are."

"Hardly an appropriate comparison, my lord." She said, reverting back to her old patterns. Nico cursed mentally, but she was still talking and he didn't want to interrupt her. "Your lies were for the sake of your sister and your friends, whereas mine were selfish and vain."

Nico frowned and shook his head. "How can you say that? You're entirely selfless." Dianthe laughed bitterly and wiped her nose, immediately glancing at her sleeve and hiding it behind her back like it was somehow shameful. "And everyone does that. You don't need to worry."

Dianthe smiled again, but it was fleeting. Nico furrowed his brow, determined to inspire a continuous smile from her. He didn't even pay attention to the sudden shift of his concentration; from revenge to sympathy and compassion. "Selflessness is a facade required of the servants in King Minos' court, my lord. Those who do not appear to have any other intention than to serve their monarch are rewarded, and those who do not are punished. It is simple fact."

"But I'm not a king." Nico pointed out. Dianthe shook her head.

"It becomes a habit after a time, my lord." She told him quietly. Nico hated how she stood in front of him, eyes on the ground; hands placating and locked in front of her-it seemed like she expected him to hit her and would do nothing to stop him if he tried.

"Stand up," Nico ordered suddenly, surprising himself. "I don't care if you used to be a slave. Stand up." Dianthe's eyes were wide with shock. Nico grabbed her shoulders and jerked her upright so that her eyes met his. She tried to look away, but Nico grabbed her chin and made her look at him. She whimpered. "Knock that off, okay? I'd never hurt you, so stop acting like I've been abusing you half your life. This is the twenty-first century, Dianthe. Women aren't the victims anymore."

Dianthe said nothing. She just stared at him, and continued staring even after he let go. He was shaking again, although why he was sure. It certainly wasn't from anger anymore. Nico leaned against Pluto's shrine and crossed his arms, looking skyward. Dianthe hadn't moved from where she stood, and her complacency hadn't changed by much. But she didn't look like an abused woman in a marriage anymore.

Finally: "Thank you."

Nico raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "What for?"

"Respecting me. It is not something I am used to." Nico was slightly surprised by the gratitude. He hadn't known he'd done anything, but apparently Dianthe thought he had. "I lied because I was afraid you would not respect me as I am. Ariadne was always fawned over and given extravagant gifts. The palace was lined with successful, wealthy and handsome suitors all begging to take her hand. She never wanted for anything, whereas my fellow servants and I were rewarded with the scraps from feasts and the occasional chicken leg out of pity. I thought if you believed me to be the princess, then perhaps...oh, I do not know what came over me. But please forgive me for what I have done to you. I never wished to hurt you. You have always been kind to me."

Nico laughed. "You reap what you sow, right? I was angry at you for lying, Dianthe. But I'm just as bad. And we all want to be liked. Believe me, I've been there. I am there." Nico paused, reminiscing. "And someone needs to teach you the fine art of contractions."

"Come again?" Dianthe asked quizzically, and Nico smiled offering his arm, which Dianthe happily locked elbows with.

"Well, I am gets shortened to I'm and..."

* * *

Samantha Fisher hated pretending.

She hated pretending she didn't already know who her godly parent was. She hated pretending she was an ignorant new demigod free of strife and pain. She hated smiling at everyone because if she let a single person see how bad she really felt, she'd be bombarded with questions she would have no choice but to answer.

And who wanted to explain to people that she's been an experiment of the Fates.

Lachesis, the old woman who measured out a person's lifespan, had visited Sam's mother when she was eight months old and demanded the little girl be handed over. Of course, Gloria Fisher wanted nothing to do with the Fate and therefore slammed the door in her face, but Lachesis was not to be ignored.

Sam was robbed from her crib that night while her mother slept in a nearby chair and raised in some waterside cave where Hebe, goddess of youth, cared for her until she was about five. When she hit that unfortunate birthday, the Fates had determined "a suitable foster family to watch over and instruct." Frequently, though, Sam was summoned back to that beachside cave where the Fates would do nothing but scrutinize her, legs tucked underneath her as she sat complacently before the three most powerful entities known to man.

She ran away when she was nine. The family she'd been given to was great, of course, but she wasn't stupid. They all had stark white blonde hair and brown eyes; nothing like her own black and green combination. And when they put her in school, she started learning about heritage and genes and all of that, so it didn't take her long to realize that recessive genes didn't work that way. Despite Atropos' attempt at condoling her and convinced her they were indeed her true family, Sam had already discovered the truth. She was a demigod. And more than that, she wasn't supposed to be alive. She had been conceived by Poseidon, who had allegedly still been bound by an oath to not have children at that time. Her abduction was the Fates' way of giving back what her father deserved.

That night was the night of Connor's funeral. There had been an unbelievable delay in getting it prepared, mostly because of the shock associated with his accidental death. With his brother, Travis, and the rest of the Argo II's crew MIA, no one had been particularly excited about burning the prankster's shroud. But they brought out the simple cloth, brown with a caduceus, and set it ablaze. Sam cried with the others, but it wasn't until she saw Atropos that she truly lost it.

"Oh my gods!" she exclaimed, immediately shoving her way back through the crowd and knocking over chairs and bumping into people in her hurry to get away. Deep down, she knew that there was nothing she could do about escaping Fate, but she had tried too hard to give up. There had been too many lies in her life for her to just toss it aside and let the Fates steal her away again, like they had when she was a baby.

"Sam!" one of the Hermes boys, Chris, called after her, trying to snag her on her way past, but Sam was small and fast. She easily slipped past his arms before he developed a firm enough hold and sprinted for the one thing she hoped even the Fates couldn't reach her at. She ran straight for the beach.

She skated along the edge of the creek too, although it didn't provide as much protection as the powerhouse just a little bit beyond her. She no longer cared about hiding her father from Camp Half-Blood. As long as she could keep the Fates at bay, she was happy.

She ran for all she was worth, her breath coming out short and fast, but years of running had conditioned her to breathe the right way. Slow and steady, constant, deep breaths that filled the lungs. Although it could be hard to do, as long as she could get two or three every ten or so bad ones, she was good. She stumbled while running, tripping and falling into the creek.

The second her head went under, the sounds of distressed half-bloods on the surface was muffled. She immediately noticed the fact she could breathe, and that she wasn't tired anymore. Without a second more indecision, she kicked her feet and swam forward, against the current, but it didn't tire her out, or even slow her down. In no time she had reached the Long Island Sound and felt the immediate rush of contact with the ocean.

She took in a deep gasp of relief and basked in her victory. Eventually, Atropos would leave. She couldn't loiter on the beach forever; she had people's lives to end. So all Sam had to do was wait her out and she'd go away, leaving the teenage girl alone...

"Ah!" She screamed, feeling a large hand grab the back of her shirt and bring her up onto land. She kicked and flailed her arms around desperately, eyes shut as she tried to free herself. Her feet touched the ground again and all her energy from before left her in a rush. Sam collapsed on the ground, wheezing. "No!" she screamed, eyes still closed. "I'm not going back to that fake family or that cave! You can't make me, Atropos. You can't make me!"

She felt like she was throwing a temper tantrum. She never threw temper tantrums. That was always sometimes kids did in the store that made her look at her albino mother and ask, "Why are they crying so loudly, mommy?" But she _liked_ Camp Half-Blood and she didn't care about what Lachesis said about destiny or inevitability or any of that. She just wanted to have an actual, real family who didn't love her just because the Fates told them to. She didn't want to be taken away again.

"Samantha," Chiron said firmly. "What are you talking about?" Sam looked up and blinked at the white centaur, horror gradually building in her chest. Remembering that day in the surf near Florida, Sam glanced down at her clothes. Completely dry. That was going to be hard to explain.

"I..."

"-have run long enough." A commanding voice declared, and the campers parted ways for the decrepit old hag with the sheers as she lumbered toward the young, defenseless girl lying on the ground, pleading with her. "I am ashamed of you, Θάλασσα παιδί." The Fate chided, her voice strong despite the fact she was like, infinity old. Sam growled at the name. She hated it. It meant "sea child" and it only reminded her of the fact her father was a backstabbing coward who couldn't control himself enough to leave well enough alone.

Sam swallowed, but her throat was dry. She didn't know what to say. In the presence of the other type of Death, she was speechless. Even now, Sam felt her life flash before her eyes, from birth until she watched her shroud burning into ashes. It felt like centuries passed before Atropos came to a stop in front of Sam. "Please," was all the girl could make herself say.

"We knew where you were hiding, Θάλασσα παιδί." The old woman told her, but her voice overlapped, and Sam knew her sisters were also giving their voices. "You never truly concealed yourself from our sight. But we bided our time, as mothers do. We waited for you to grow tired of the treacherous world and return to us. You did not come back."

"If you're so all-knowing, you should have known I wouldn't come back!" Sam snapped, surprising even herself. "And I still won't. So you can just go away and leave me the hell alone." She pushed herself to her feet, dusting off her clothes and squaring off her shoulders toward the old woman. She wasn't afraid of destiny or fate. She just wanted it to get out of her life.

Atropos clicked her tongue disapprovingly and shook her head. "We hoped you would see reason." She muttered, voice times three. Sam hated the way she was still talking to all three Fates even when it was only one in front of her. It was unnatural and disturbing and not something a young girl should have known. And yet she knew it better than her own name. Suddenly, Atropos stiffened and her sheers fell to her side. Sam knew what was coming before anyone else saw it.

_Trapped upon the cursed mountain in immortal exile_

_The chains of death are broken by the Earth Mother's wile _

_A son of Neptune trapped within ally with the sky_

_Of the Seven found, three must die_

_Equal forces working from within and without_

_Dispel the field and the heroes' doubt_

Sam swallowed and desperately wanted water, but she held her ground, staring down the Fate in determination. It was obvious what had just occurred; Atropos worked to preserve order in the universe. If something had gone awry, thusly making the receiver of a prophecy unavailable, her purpose was to right things by providing that which the Oracle of Delphi should have given. A prophecy to abide by.

But something in the pit of Sam's stomach told her that several of the events named within the prophecy had already happened; like the deaths. She had no idea what _"The chains of death are broken by the Earth Mother's wile"_ meant, but she knew it had to do with Gaea, and therefore could not be good.

Sam shuddered and looked at Atropos, praying she had heard the poem wrong. She said three of the Seven demigods chosen for the prophecy were going to die. That meant complete and utter disaster. If there was only four left alive, and the Great Prophecy specified seven, there was nothing anyone could do to fix it. They were doomed.

Then Sam noticed the intensity with which Atropos was staring at her. She closed her eyes and braced herself for what was coming. "I'll go," she told her. "But I won't come back to you. I've got another life now, and the only way you'll when this is if you take those stupid scissors and cut my lifeline."

Sam knew the unwavering glare of the Fate of Death was fixated on her eyelids. She could feel the stare like lasers in her face, hot and painful. But she didn't move or show weakness. She waited.

And waited...

And waited...

And waited...

Finally, she felt something in her stomach constrict. "Go to your brother's aid." Atropos said with finality, and Sam's world turned upside down and she tumbled into the void.

**Okay, so here's the prophecy from which this entire thing is technically late. I realize for the guys who have been in the thick of it right along, this is pretty late and doesn't leave much room for guessing. You have my apologies. I suck at poems and prophecies. As a matter of fact, I think I'm worse than Apollo. I was literally staring at my computer trying to figure out rhyming lines that even parallel Riordan's pure talent for capturing the double meanings and everything else in his prophecies, but I failed. I'm too literal to do this, I swear.**

**Okay, so for those of you reading Forgotten Fear, that is also updated with Chapter Seventeen. And after I finish writing the adventurous Part 1 and uneventful Part 2 of The Forgotten Fear, I'm going to start on The Siren's Song, which will have a fairly vague and decent prophecy on which I have been working, quite literally, for a year on. Sad, I know, right?**

**Anyway, I hope this chapter made up for the break. I'm not sure whether or not I should evolve the relationship between Nico and Dianthe/Ariadne to something more than just close friends. I think Nico might be a little young to explore the realms of romance, but I don't know. So I call another toll. In your reviews, please tell me whether or not you think they should or should not wind up together. Please include an explanation; it helps me determine the irrational from the possible. I hope I've left it open-ended enough so far that it could go either way.**

**You also got a very in depth explanation of the so-far elusive Samantha Fisher. Some of you have been asking me if she's the same one in Forgotten Fear, and I'm pretty much going to tell you this; sort of. I love a lot of my own characters, so I have a tendency to include them in multiple fanfictions just because they are awesome. Sam is one of those lovable characters. So is Anne because she's so much fun to write. **

**I know it sounds sick and twisted, but my fellow authors out there who have written thoroughly messed up characters understand that insanity adds a certain depth to the words that is hard to achieve otherwise. Not to mention Anne can be really snarky and hilarious when she wants to be.**

**I guess the only thing left to say is REVIEW! **


	28. Chapter 24

**Warning: Guess what POV with have for number two? You guessed it. The incredibly beloved and hated Anne. But actually, it's not as sick and twisted. I think. There's a lot of cursing. I mean a lot. I'm taking rapid fire f-word and descriptions that would make a nun have a heart attack. But it's actually pretty tame in comparison. And from now on, Anne's tendencies are going to be subdued.**

**You people fail to vote on her fate. Now her fate has been decided on. Contend with it. **

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Loss**

Leo wiped the sweat from his brow, stepping back to admire the combined effort of himself and the Romans, who had seemed surprisingly vigorous when constructing the Argo III, when had only slight modifications from its now deceased predecessor, the Argo II. With a confident smile, Leo jumped onto the front of the ship and scaled it easily, joy igniting within him. "Guys!" he called. "You can officially put down your hammers and screwdrivers and wrenches. We're done!"

Immediately, cries of relief and elation erupted through the sweaty, oil and ash covered workers. Several of his Roman siblings lowered their blowtorches, shutting them off to stare at Leo in aghast before they too joined in the roaring applause and excited whooping.

"Leo! Leo!" They chanted over and over again. Leo leapt down and did a series of bows to all angles of the room, basking in his moment. They all continued cheering his name as they filed out and returned to whatever duties they had elsewhere. Then it occurred to Leo that although the Argo was his life, it wasn't theirs. They were probably grateful to have it finished so they didn't have to break their backs over it.

Leo dragged his hand along the hull, smiling expansively at his second victory. "Don't blow up, you hear me?" He told his baby firmly, then looked to the front of the ship and felt his heart drop. There was something missing to this magnificent creation.

Festus' head had perished in the explosion.

Leo remembered the instantaneous death he had felt. Just a blast of heat and a tickling sensation that spread throughout his entire body before complete darkness. It had been almost blissful and welcoming; death. Like going to sleep for a very, very long time. But Leo also remembered how he had survived and Festus hadn't. Maybe it was stupid for him to grow so attached to a hunk of metal, but Festus had been his friend. And he had a tendency to miss his friends when he lost them.

That was when he saw Felicia standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She was studying the ship in awe and grudging admiration. "_You _built this?" she scoffed; arms folded over her chest as she pushed herself off the doorframe and started walking around the ship. Leo felt his heart skip a beat at the compliment, but he struggled not to show it on his face.

He considered acting almighty about it and bragging just to show-off, but Felicia knew him too well. She'd smell the uncertainty he was trying to hide by being a jokester in no time flat. She always did. "Nah," he said, shrugging. "I had loads of help on both."

Felicia stared pointedly at him. "But you came up with it and led the construction." Leo frowned. What was she trying to say? Felicia took a sweeping step toward him. "Leo, what would you say if I told you I was proud of you?"

Leo laughed and shook his head. "I'd ask you when the 'April's Fools' was coming." He told her, turning to do a few last minute checks on the engine. Sadly, without Nyssa, he was the only Hephaestus kid present with prior knowledge as to how the Argo was supposed to function.

Before he had so much as a second's time to mull over Nyssa's loss again, he felt something hand-shaped wrap around his bicep and yank him backward, turning him so that he was facing the assailant.

Only it wasn't an assailant.

It was Felicia. And she was kissing him.

He was too shocked to even considerate returning her enthusiasm, but luckily, Felicia didn't seem to care. She pressed her lips against his and knocked him backward into the Argo III. Leo's eyes widened and he lifted his hands to push her away and tell her that whatever feelings she felt toward him were unrequited, but his muscles failed him. Instead of pushing her away, he pulled her closer, entangling his fingers in her hair and recovering from his surprise.

For several moments, all they did was kiss with such a passion that Leo was half afraid it would escalate. But finally logic took back over and Leo pulled away, breathless. He saw lipstick smeared around Felicia's mouth and knew he too was burdened with the evidence to that second of stupidity.

The daughter of Hecate stumbled backward, looking lightheaded. Instinctively, Leo reached out to steady her, and she fell into his arms, clinging to his shirt like her life depended on it. She looked up at him, smiling expansively, and laughed. "I've wanted to do that for a long time." She leaned up to try it again, but Leo scrambled backward, dropping his wrench in haste. "Leo?"

He gulped, trying to force himself to speak, but nothing came out. He kept remembering his father's warning against getting attached to Felicia. "There have only been a handful like her throughout the ages, and none of them have followed the gods." Could Leo have been foolish enough to fall in love with a destined traitor? Granted, he'd already fouled up with Khione, but she was a goddess. Totally out of his league from the get-go. But Felicia was different. She was demonstrating the same feelings toward Leo as he felt toward her.

But was she? Maybe it was all an act to soften him up, get him to let her in. Divulge secret information to her that she would then give to Gaea.

Leo shook his head, ashamed of himself for being so paranoid. Never before had Felicia shown any indication of treachery or untrustworthiness. Well, she had lied about her name. That was suspicious.

Felicia was waiting for a response, and Leo couldn't think of one. He worked his jaw up and down desperately, but no sound came out. Finally, when she reached toward him, he stepped back and said, "I don't like you."

It was an outright lie. Leo was bordering on loving Felicia, so like was a foregone conclusion. But he couldn't love her. He couldn't even like her. His father forbade it.

Leo caught himself mid-thought. Wait. Now he was suddenly taking his dad's word as gospel? No, absolutely not. He was going to make his own mistakes, damn it. Hephaestus hadn't cared about him to straight with and he didn't care about him now. Leo resolved to tell Felicia thusly. He opened his mouth and then saw the look on her face.

Before he could make amends, Felicia blinked her watery eyes and ran out of the workshop, the damage done before Leo could repair it. "Felicia!" he called, but she was already gone.

Then Piper materialized in the doorway, frowning at Leo's red lips. Hastily, he used his sleeve to wipe away Felicia's lipstick and picked up his fallen wrench, returning to work. He hadn't seen the tears in Piper's eyes. "Leo," she said quietly.

"Yeah," he muttered, going over the ship determinedly.

"Something...happened today." He nodded his head and made a small sound in his throat to acknowledge that he was listened. "Something bad." Piper clarified, as if he hadn't already gotten that from her tone. Leo found a loose screw and immediately set to work tightening it. "Leo, are you even paying attention?"

"Yeah," he muttered again. "'Course I am, Beauty Queen. Go on," Suddenly, the wrench was yanked from his hand and he was forced to face his friend in order to get it back. "What the hell, Piper? You know I have to check this thing to make sure it's air-ready!"

"This is more important!" she shouted hysterically, stomping her foot like a little kid. She threw his wrench across the room and screamed shrilly. Leo ducked when she took a swing at him and flattened himself against the hull of the ship, deciding that he was going to give Piper his undivided attention if for no other reason than self-preservation.

"Okay, okay! I'm listening!" he cried fearfully, watching Piper carefully out of fear she'd lose it again. "What's wrong?"

Just then, Piper completely broke down, crumpling to the ground in sobs, shaking furiously in grief. Leo stared at her, uncomprehending of what was going on, arms hanging uselessly at his sides and mouth gaping. He had no idea how to handle Piper's meltdown. This was Jason's job, not his.

That's when he saw the blood on Piper's hands and shirt. He swallowed and looked her over for signs of injury, but he found nothing. So what was she so...?

Jason.

It was the only thing that made sense. And there was an unspoken understanding between the friends that he was dead. Leo crouched down and hugged Piper, letting her cry into his shirt. "How did it happen?" he said quietly, stroking her hair without even realizing it.

"We-" Piper's voice cracked. "We were arguing, and I asked if he-if he loved me, and he didn't answer. And then Reyna was there, and she wanted to talk to him about something, and then that horrible James from the First Cohort was there, and he was calling me a-a _graecus_ and then he threw a knife and Jason took it for me and I just couldn't...I tried to save him, but..." She brought down into incoherent tears again, and Leo found that his own cheeks were beginning to wet with his salty tears.

So that was how he went out. Leo should have guessed he'd die a hero. And more importantly, saving Piper. Why she even had to ask if he loved her, Leo would probably never know. The answer was obvious. The guy was nuts about her, even if he was a little distant and tried to pull away. Leo couldn't figure how the people-inclined Piper McLean would possibly miss that, but he guessed it was a guy thing.

Suddenly, Leo noticed the indifference in his body. The first stage of grief. Denial. Leo chewed his lip and shook his head, the real reluctance to believe what he had just heard finally coming. The shock did not fade or disperse, but the grief was beginning to come through. He pushed Piper away from him and shook his head. "Are you sure, Pipes?" he asked dubiously. "I mean, Jason's pretty tough. He might just be out for a whi-"

"I think I know when someone's dead, Leo!" Piper snapped, suddenly on her feet. The second stage, Leo knew. Anger. "I was the one who saw him! I was the one who watched as he-as he bled to death in my arms..." Piper crumpled to the ground again, shrinking inside herself. "And I told him I didn't love him." she muttered dryly, her anger being directed at herself.

Leo was shocked. That couldn't be true. Piper had always loved Jason deeply, even more than was healthy for her to do. "Come on, Beauty Queen. I'm sure..."

"I told him that I hated him! And I do!" Piper looked up at Leo, her eyes flashing with a growing madness that scared her friend. "He used a parachute, Leo. He used a parachute, and there weren't enough left on the ship for you and Annabeth. There should have been enough, Leo. I know there should have been. But you couldn't get one for Jason. And I know you told him that. But he panicked and he jumped overboard before anyone could say anything. _He _killed you, Leo. And I am still in love with him!"

Leo couldn't believe his ears. He stumbled back, appalled, and tried to pretend he wasn't hearing it. Tried to pretend Piper was lying. That it was just a hallucination triggered by all the emotional stress he'd been put through. But he knew it wasn't. He knew the truth.

Jason had been the catalyst that ended Leo's life. And resurrected or no, Leo couldn't bring himself to forgive him.

He swallowed, his suddenly dry, and leaned against the hull of the Argo II. Then a thought occurred to him. "We need Percy Jackson." He breathed, the plan forming in his mind.

"What?" Piper asked, looking up at him in alarm and confusion.

Leo turned to face her and laughed. "We need Percy Jackson, right? Jason or no, we need him. And he's headed to that creepy mountain place with the dead guy, and I'm dead and..." Piper was just staring at him, uncomprehending. "Pipes, what if that creepy mountain place is like the Doors of Death or whatever? What if when the dead come back, they go _there_?"

Piper looked skeptical, but slowly, her expression softened and she looked thoughtful. "Then Jason could be there." Leo nodded energetically, but his motivation for reuniting with his friend was not the same as Piper's. He wanted revenge.

"Exactly." He agreed, grinning mischievously.

Then Piper's face fell. "And Octavian." She muttered fearfully, and Leo frowned. He had never met the supposedly psychotic Legolas or whatever the Romans called him, but he heard he was bad and had been killed by Nico di Angelo, the socially inept son of Hades. Otherwise, he had _nada_. "Leo, what if Octavian's there?"

Leo shrugged. "How am I supposed to know? We kill him again or something." But as soon as he said, he knew it wasn't an option. Leo could kill monsters no problemo, but people, however evil, was not kosher. Even using his bad boy war machine to do it, he just couldn't wrap his mind around the concept. Whatever happened to the mortal bad guys on that cursed mountaintop, it wasn't going to be death. At least, not by his hand. No way, Jose.

Piper pushed herself to her feet reverently. "We'll need Annabeth, and-and Hazel and Frank. Maybe even Nico, if he'll come." Then Piper paused, studying him. "Anyone else you want to come along, Leo?"

He didn't understand why she was asking him. "A couple of those Spock kids to check on the ship, I suppose. But can't think of anyone else." Piper watched him carefully.

"Are you sure?" she asked. "I mean, Felicia..."

"Felicia doesn't want to come." He said quickly, remembering the kiss and wanting to die so desperately he was willing to feel every sting of the fire to do it. "She-she's afraid of heights." He lied, knowing he had to think of something to convince Piper she couldn't do it. Having her on the Argo III...no. He just couldn't do it. Not even if he tried.

Piper just nodded. "I...I'll get the others. We'll leave..."

"Now," Leo said. "There's no time to argue. We've got to go _now_." Piper nodded again and left Leo alone.

He turned back to the Argo III and beat his head against hull, feeling like an idiot. He didn't know what to feel, actually. Grief from Jason's loss and his betrayal of Felicia. Joy from the prospect of trying out his new ship. Apprehension from his plan. Fear from what he knew was coming his way. A jumbled mess of emotions swirling in his head with no structure or reason. If he didn't sort through his screwed up life soon, he'd lose his mind.

Of course, after everything he and everyone else had gone through, insanity was a foregone conclusion. And it also wasn't their worst problem.

**ANNE! It's important to the storyline, so sorry, but please do read. If you're too disgusted, just PM me and I'll tell you the details that aren't disgusting. This just took me a while to write, so I would appreciate reviews. **

Anne was tired. Really sick and tired of that idiot blonde. Luke Castellan, she remembered his name as. Not that she cared out stupid names. She'd call them by what they were called to their face, but secretly she fathomed demeaning nicknames for them. The blonde was just that, and the other, Jackson, was Paladin. After all, he did kind of commit suicide just to save a bunch of people.

She frowned at the body, limp over the rocks, with that blood all over her favorite knife. She couldn't believe she'd like that thing out of her sight, but at least Paladin handled her problem for her. Which made matters easier, to say the least. Although clearly less susceptible to Anne's guile and charm, the blonde was far less attentive and would be much easier to off.

Testified by his immediate rushing to Paladin's side.

"Percy!" he screamed, yanking out the knife like a moron and tossing it aside so that it tumbled through the invisible barrier and out of Anne's reach. She gapped at him, astounded by his lack of sympathy to her _stolen_ knife, but the blonde wasn't paying attention. He was trying to stench the flow of blood from Paladin's chest, but it was hopeless. The blade must have reached his heart, and even if it hadn't, didn't he know anatomy? It punctured the inferior vena cava and the blood loss was impossible to stem. Any further attempts to save his life were futile to say the least.

Unfortunately, the placement of the knife had killed him almost instantly. It was a disappointing fact for Anne.

The blonde was doing everything he could to save his friend's life, but honestly, where did he get off thinking CPR could save him? Anne shook her head, disgusted at his lack of knowledge regarding death, and pulled another knife, holding it to his neck.

The blonde froze.

"What are you doing?" he asked, swallowing and then wincing as Anne's sunk into his Adam's apple.

"Finishing the job Paladin here started." She told him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him around. Reaching into her pocket with her left hand, she pulled out once of her signature drachmas and flipped it on top of the corpse.

The blonde followed it during its arching descent and stared at it when it landed, heads up, on Paladin's forehead. He swallowed. "You're a daughter of Apate," he breathed. "Aren't you?"

Anne smiled at him, and he looked horrified. "Anne McCartney, daughter of deceit and guile at its worst, here to kill you ruthlessly." Twisting the knife under his chin, she added. "Unluckily for you, no one told me how fast I had to kill you. As a matter of fact, I heard nothing expect the fact she wants you dead, so..."

"Wait." He interrupted, irritating Anne. She didn't like chatty kills. "She? Who do you work for?"

"You really are stupid." she said, rolling her eyes. "I'm freelance, idiot. Don't really work for anyone. Got an office where people come looking for me, but otherwise..." Anne grinned, remembering several jobs where her only paycheck was satisfaction. "I don't work for anyone if the price isn't big enough."

"How much was I?" the blonde asked. She sighed at his ignorance.

"_Both_ of you will give me enough money to buy out that little corporation and make my father regret sticking his dick in that whore's vagina, I've got news." She grinned at the blonde's look of repulsion. "Don't judge," she told him. "I had a hard life."

"You're a demigod." He said carefully. "We've all had hard lives."

"Were all of you subjected to the sex trade by your conman fathers and killed your first man when he was trying to rape you?" she demanded, shutting him up. She bent down and dragged the blade underneath his chin. "You talk too much." She observed.

"I don't usually." He confessed. She laughed at him and sliced the side of his neck, making him wince in both fear and pain. "You don't have to do this." He told her. "Camp Half-Blood..."

"-doesn't tolerate murderers and whores." She finished for him impatiently. "I've got a death toll longer than the Washington Monument, and I've fucked more men than you can possibly imagine. A few women, too." The blonde looked like he wanted to be sick.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"Don't be," she told him. "It made me who I am."

"Doesn't change what that means, Anne." A new voice said from behind her. Anne turned and saw a familiar little girl stumbling up the mountain toward her. "It doesn't change the things you've done."

"Hello, Sammy." Anne teased, drawing her gun and pointing it at the girl's head, only to hesitate on the trigger. She had killed countless people indiscriminately-and some without even paying attention-why should this small little witness be any different?

Because she was a child. And Anne did not kill children.

Sam's eyes were not childlike in the slightest, of course. Barely teenage, the little girl had been raised by the Fates. She was no stranger to cruelty and inevitability. Her black hair was ragged, but long enough to graze her shoulder blades, eyes twinkling green. But darkened by experience and pain. In everything but years, she was an adult. But damn it, she was so small.

But Anne was a killer, and she had already let this pesky witness free once before. With a warning. So now necessity deemed it appropriate to stuff out that short life where it stood, all at once. As ruthless as a wolf. Cunning as a fox. There was no room in her conquering mind for mercy and remorse.

So why couldn't she pull that fucking trigger.

Sam staggered forward, unfazed by Anne's blatant threat on her life. She clamored over rocks and hissed when the stone cut her or scraped her. Anne was no fan of Samantha Fisher. No, of course not. That little she-devil had nearly fouled up her perfect record. No, she _had _fouled up her perfect record. No misses. No screw-ups. Steady as a beating drum and lethal as the machine gun. Until those sweet eyes melted Anne's heart and stayed her forefinger. She would not shoot Sam that day. But today, oh today was a new day. Full of surprises.

Damn it, Anne, she thought to herself. Kill! Do your job! You can't afford loose ends and you know it. One witness can jeopardize the entire operation! Your paycheck is at stake, godsdammit! You have to eat, and this little pest isn't going to take that right away from you. Shoot her!

But no, she couldn't. She just couldn't. A small, thin layer of hope still resided in Anne's rotting soul, crying out for help. Screaming for someone to hear and save it before it was too late. Wilting down slowly and steadily until it was nothing. But there was a petal left, still red and bright and alive. And Anne desperately wanted to save it.

Lies didn't have to mean death, she thought. You could always start over. Forget the past. Maybe redirect your intentions toward something good. Like detecting lies. You'd be better at it than anyone. A clean slate, Anne. Doesn't that sound wonderful?

"You don't have to kill me, Anne." Sam said, echoing her thoughts. "You don't have to pull that trigger, or kill that man. You don't have to kill anyone else. I've seen the good in you. You're not evil, Anne. Just misguided. Let us help you."

Anne eyes welled with tears she hadn't felt since her first kill. Ever since then, she had been steely and desensitized, her only sobs through acting and guile. No, she didn't cry. SHE DIDN'T CRY! "No!" Anne wailed; blinking away her tears and forcing her face back into its normal impassive expression of sadistic glee.

The mask she had worn for seventeen years. To appease her father. Then her mother. Then her job. But she didn't want to make people happy, damn it. No one but herself. She didn't need sympathetic asides or friends. Just a ladder to climb and a reason to do it.

That reason had always been power. She craved power. Desired it. Went into withdrawal without it. It was her passion. Her reason for living. Power, the search for it, had become her drug. It made her heady with hope, arousal. Desperation. She _needed_ that fucking power! More than she needed to breathe. More than she needed to cry.

But she was crying. And by crying, she was weak. And by being weak, she had no power. It was slipping through her fingers. Falling away. Fading. She couldn't let it get away. Had to get it back. Craved it so damned much.

Gods, she needed help.

No, she insisted to herself. No help. You're fine. Just lift your head up, ignore the tears, and the tears will ignore you. Pull that trigger, Anne. You know Sam's the real problem. You take her out; you take out the root of your trouble. No more morality or right and wrong bullshit. You're Anne McCartney. You don't have time for bullshit. Unless you're bullshitting for a fuck and a paycheck. Anne would sell her soul for power.

Funny, the voice in her head said again, making her fumble on the trigger just before she pulled it. You already have. "Let it go, Anne. You've had it rough. So have I. But we have to let go." Sam was almost on her by then, lumbering only scant feet away. A gunshot now wouldn't miss. Couldn't miss. Point blank range and Anne could put a .45 through a bird's brain at fifty feet if she wanted to. Blindfolded. So why hadn't the gun let off its signature sound and dispatched with problem number one and two?

Anne wanted to kill Sam. She did. She honestly did. Every part of her body was screaming for the rush of the kill. The satanic glee that came from taking another life. Racking up the total. She was already going to Greek Hell in a hand basket, what did she care?

She didn't. She didn't care one flying fuck what happened to that little girl who was standing in front her now, looking complacent and calm, like she wasn't afraid of the barrel pressed against her head. Like she knew the trembling hand in which it was held would never pull that trigger on her. Might never pull that trigger again.

But she couldn't not kill. Anne had dedicated her life to the job. What was she without it? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. A waste. A nobody. Her mother's wit and charm and cunningness had gotten her far beyond her wildest dreams as the daughter of a conman. Anne was someone to be feared. Revered. Respected.

But no she wasn't. Yes, people feared her. Were terrified of her. But no one revered her. No one would ever look up at her plague and say, "Yeah, I liked her." No, not unless they're one of the sick fucks from her job who thought she was a nice piece of ass. She was someone to be hated. Despised. Disgusted with. A monster. Parasitic life form upon the earth. Sapping its energy, its life, everything. Draining hard-working individuals dry. Taking lives. Making days. Fucking businessmen. Taking lives. It was her life. She couldn't just let it go.

What was Sam thinking? Let it go. How could she? Murderer. That was who she was. Whore. Slut. Hoe. Tramp. Prostitute. Her everything rotated around that way of life. Without it, she was as good as dead.

Was death worth the chance at hope? Maybe a half decent life.

She remembered how Paladin had thrown himself into the line of fire for her sake. Taken his own life for the cause. Couldn't she support that cause?

"Drop the gun, Anne. And let us live. Help us instead. Please."

There is was. Please. The magic word. The word she never used. The word she hated. The word that finally made her let go.

The gun went slack in her hand and Sam gingerly took it from her. Anne dropped the knife too, forgetting about her job and just collapsing in a heap of tears. She had chosen her road. The road of the pacifist. The road of the justifier. The road of the right.

The road of the hero.

Was she too far gone to be saved? Only time would tell, she decided. In time, she'd know if it was worth the decision.

Until then, she would mourn what had come to pass and pray that tomorrow would bring hope. Because today was bleak and full of loss and death. And for the first time in her four years of racking up death tolls and bloody knives, Anne felt sad.

She hadn't felt sad in so long. But somehow, that made her happy.

Geez, she was fucked up.

**Once again, Anne lives on. But she's just that way. Doesn't filter herself much. Neither do I, but I don't make a living out a shooting and killing people.**

**Or do I?**

**Kidding.**

**Oh, and I've noticed something kind of funny. You people don't review, like, ever! Forgotten Fear has more reviews, like twice as many, and it's a lot shorter so far. Is it because this thing is a Mark of Athena? Because it certainly isn't a normal one. And it has more traffic! You people are ripping me off, I swear! **

**And here's the threat. It isn't worth me continuing to work on these chapters and upload them is I don't get feedback. It really isn't. I have a novel to write, and that takes precedence. I'm doing this to be nice. But I don't have to. So if I don't get 20 reviews between now and the end of the month, this story is being officially and completely discontinued. I'm sorry to those who have been reviewing, I really am, but the least of the many bring them all to the ground. So that threat is legitimate. No follow-ups, no updates. No more chapters. Dead and gone. **

**You have until the end of the month to wow me. Get cracking.**

**Sincerely and with absolute furious sincerity,**

**Thein273**

**I will write an author's note at the end of the month if I don't get enough.**


	29. Chapter 25

**This is a revised chapter, with the second POV changed.**

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Rebirth**

Rationally speaking, Jason was dead.

He vividly remembered seeing James throw the knife at Piper and that moment of panic on Jason's part before he intercepted it. He could still feel the pain and the dwindling reserves of energy he had during his last minutes, counting down on the clock, trying to gasp out those last words to Piper before Death finally took him. "I do love you." Jason wondered what her reaction had been after could no longer hear the living. He hoped it was a whisper of forgiveness and not anger at his last futile attempt at reconciliation.

After the darkness gripped him and he breathed his last breath, beat his last heartbeat, and thought his last thought; he saw what looked to him like Cupid, god of love. But he knew better. The shimmery wings are his back and darker skin tone looked regal, but he knew that he was staring at Death. Letus, he remembered from the Roman myths. Lieutenant of Pluto.

Letus held out his richly colored hand and Jason took it without hesitation, floating up onto his feet and meeting the infinite eyes of his escort. Jason wanted to ask where he was taking him, but words died in his throat. It was just as well, he realized. It would have been a stupid question to advance into the afterlife with.

Jason felt himself floating until he stood in front of a place called DOA Recording Studios. He frowned and looked over at Letus, who had released his hand. The next second, Jason was floating toward the entrance. Then he saw other people, all hand-in-hand with Death as they made their last trek to the Underworld. He saw small children; at least five. It broke his heart to see their happy, smiling faces unaware of what the ramifications of this trip really were.

Several regular civilians were holding hands with death. Quite a few of them were in their early to mid-twenties and had an assortment of stab and gunshots wounds as their cause of death. Jason saw a disbelieving woman staring at the manifestation of Letus, shaking her head and moving her lips up and down like she was trying to convince him she couldn't be dead. Jason overhead some of the things she was saying. "My daughters...father is in the army...tour in Iraq...suicide bomber...missing in action." His heart went out to her, but it didn't matter what kind of pleading she did. Death would not release her. It was not his way.

A business man looked as if he was trying to pay off Letus if he let him live, offering up a briefcase full of unmarked dollar bills. Jason knew he was a money launderer, and judging by the bullet hole in his chest, his boss had been none-too-happy with his behavior.

Before Jason could look at any more of his fellow dead, he was pulled through the door. He stood in front of Charon, the guy who ferried the dead across the Styx, and found it strange that he was wearing an Italian suit. Charon held out his hand. "You got any money?"

Jason frowned and shuffled through his pockets, searching for something to pay. He remembered that dead in the ancient times were buried with coins over their eyes so they could pay Charon upon arrival. Another seemingly useless fact from Annabeth that somehow proved invaluable.

Despite how stupid he thought it was to have to pay to die, he fished out a five from his pocket and handed it to Charon. The Ferrier stared at it for a moment, glancing back up at him, but Jason only shrugged. A few hours before Piper had cornered him, Jason had spent his last few denarii getting lunch and holding a bouquet of flowers for her. He couldn't help but find the irony in that action.

He hoped Charon wouldn't send him to sit down for an eternity, but thankfully the Italian suited man just rolled his eyes and motioned for Jason to proceed. He did as he was bid.

As the ferry glided over the river to the other side, Jason's mind wandered to the last moments of his life. He sat beside a little boy playing with a ghostly yoyo and found himself absorbed into the up-and-down motion of the toy, letting it act as a hypnotist as he dug deeper and deeper into his thoughts.

He knew how stupid he had been now. To let Piper even think he didn't love her with everything in him. Granted, Reyna had always been someone close to him. A good, loyal friend who occasionally felt like a little more. But in the end, any semblance of romance between them was dampened and extinguished by how painfully _awkward_ it would be to date. They knew each other too well. They could talk and work together because of their closely knit relationship, and introducing the drama of dating into that dynamic was a recipe for disaster.

Reyna felt the same way, although Jason suspected her agreement was slightly forced. "We are comrades and friends, Jason." She had said, nodding at his attempt at making sense of his girl troubles. Her voice was strained as she spoke the next part. "I have no romantic feelings for you."

Jason had felt a stupid sting at her words, like she'd stabbed him through the heart. But that was stupid. He loved Piper, didn't he? Yes, he did. She was the last person he thought about before Letus collected him. So why did he still feel so much confusion about him and Reyna.

Suddenly, the ferry lurched forward and Jason almost fell into the Styx, catching himself just barely on the side. He watched a stethoscope float by before he recovered and stood.

Charon didn't stand or escort the dead the rest of the way. They had to get off on their own. Jason looked at the massive dog a half-mile or so in front of him and gulped. Cerberus, the guard dog of Pluto. Jason knew he was dead, of course. But that didn't stop him from worrying about being eaten.

To his right, he saw the EZ Death Lane, where a lot of the dead diverted themselves. In the distance, he could see an endless plain of grass and people, wandering around mindlessly. The Fields of Asphodel, resting place of the inactive. Jason prayed to his father that he would earn Elysium instead of that empty, crowded place.

Then he heard the screams from the Fields of Punishment and altered his prayer. As long as they don't send me there, I'm good.

Jason meandered toward the pedestal of three judges and waited in line as each person was judged and carted away. Judged and carted away, Judged and carted away. It seemed to take an eternity, but then again, Jason's grasp on time was skewed. He didn't really know how long it took. It might only have been a few minutes. Or it could have been a hundred years.

Then it was his turn. The golden-masked judges looked at him seriously. The one on the far right spoke first. "Jason Grace, son of Jupiter, slain by a traitor. What have you to say?"

He said the first thing that came to mind. "I was a hero."

He could feel their smiles and incriminating eyes boring into him and something told him that his judgment was not going to go well.

The judge on the far left snapped his fingers, conjuring a wispy screen behind the judges' heads where Jason could see. It showed various snippets from his life from about three on through how he died. He saw when Jupiter finally revealed Jason as his son, the day the five year old's life was forever changed. He watched his clumsy reaction when he first met Reyna, frazzled, desperate, and rabid as a wolf. She brandished an Imperial knife in his face, slashing at him, but Jason knocked her hand aside and the knife skidded across the ground. Pinning her arms to her sides, he immobilized her until a son of Apollo could sedate the crazed daughter of Bellona.

Then Saturn started building his army, launching units of monsters after commuting demigods, and Camp Jupiter prepared an assault on the nearby Titan Stronghold. Jason's not-so-heroic victory over Krios played in front of him. His staggering impaling of the Titan through the chest. And then the next few months passed uneventfully, except that Reyna was raised as his co-praetor and she adapted to the responsibilities easier than Jason had. Then the romantic relationship between them began to build, gradually creeping up on something more than just friends.

But Jason was taken from Camp Jupiter and left on the school bus. The day Leo, Piper and him were taken to Camp Half-Blood played. Their quest flashed by like a movie montage, fights and arguments flipping past. His argument with Leo. The fight, or lack thereof, with the Cyclops on his end. Medea. Minas. The Wolf House. Mount Diablo. Then there the Argo II partially built, with Jason hanging back while Piper and Leo worked alone on the engine.

And the frantic escape of Camp Half-Blood off the ticking time bomb of a ship. How Jason threw himself over the side with the parachute that should have been Leo's. The long, tiring commute to Camp Jupiter on foot.

His inaction while Octavian held a knife to Frank's throat. Nico's appearance with a sword in the augur's chest. The Senate Meetings. Piper. Negotiations. Piper. His death. Piper. Everything replayed for him.

Finally, the misty screen blinked out of existence and all three of the judges stared intently at Jason, making him want to cringe and ran away. These were the three entities that would decide how Jason would spend eternity, and they didn't seem to like him very much.

"You are a hero." Said the middle one incredulously. "Yes, you do show some of the attributes found in those of courageous spirit. And yet...you were young at death. Naive. Unprepared. You were thrust into an unknown situation with no idea of how or what to do. And yet you made do. It is...admirable."

"The boy has done nothing selflessly. His actions were always cast out into the world for his own benefit." Protested the right judge, turning to his companion.

Then it was the left's turn to speak up. "Except his sacrifice. Did we not grant similar amnesty to Luke Castellan when he stood before us?"

"That boy was misguided by the wile of Kronos." Snapped the right again. "His choices were not entirely his own. He killed a Titan. Jason Grace took a knife for a demigod."

"Whom he loved." Insisted the middle. "And is love not a characteristic of heroes?"

"Is the coward who deserted the army then justified in the deaths of ten men for the love of a single man?" countered the right.

"No," agreed the left. "But no one suffered for Grace's sacrifice. It is through his death that Leo Valdez and Piper McLean will assist Percy Jackson in the infiltration of Mount Othrys."

Suddenly, all three judges froze and turned to face Jason, who felt speechless. He gulped despite the fact that as a ghost he didn't have saliva. "Does this mean I get to live?" he said hopefully.

The judges all sighed and waved their hands toward an archway Jason hadn't seen before. "Count yourself lucky, Grace, that the mountain is soon to be overtaken. But victory is far from reach for you and your fellow demigods. They will need a leader if they hope to survive the upcoming struggle. And Jackson cannot do it alone."

Jason scowled at the mention of his Greek counterpart Percy Jackson, feeling a slight twinge of jealousy when he remembered how the _graecus_ had taken Jason's position and Camp's respect for him. It seemed weighted somehow in Jackson's favor from the very beginning; not only did he receive the entirety of his memory within less than a week, but he also was elected praetor. _Jason_ hadn't gotten the praetorship until he was fourteen, no matter how hard he had vied for the spot. And all Jackson had to do was waltz through the tunnel and throw around a couple tsunamis to have everyone tripping over themselves to raise him up on shields and call him their leader.

Suddenly, Jason felt a tug in his stomach that felt very much alive. He opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but then there was a furious wrenching sensation in his chest and Jason's body folded as he was engulfed by blinding white light.

The next second, he was weightless.

* * *

Annabeth was healthier.

She wasn't great. She certainly wasn't stellar. But she was better.

She'd regained some of her weight, fleshed out from the hefty dinners forced down her throat by her fretful friends. Slowly but surely, she had resumed her normal exercise regimen, easing into the regular practice sessions with her knife, albeit shorter ones. Surprisingly, she was relieved not to have her boyfriend worrying about her condition. Percy would have banned her from anything and everything physical for months after her ordeal.

When she looked in the mirror nowadays, her gaunt features looked less skeletal and geometric. Her blonde hair was thicker, no longer coming out in nauseating clumps, and her grey eyes had some depth to them. Her mind functioned at its usual level of adeptness. She even started going over the plans she could remember again. Most of her and Daedalus' work, however, had been destroyed on the Argo II.

Annabeth, although reluctant, had agreed to a temporary truce with Nico. Part of her still hated him for what he had done and the problems he'd caused, but mostly she was just tired. She hadn't slept in longer than she could remember, hunted relentlessly by nightmares and visions. She saw worst case scenarios from The Giant War, remembered all the losses and sufferings of The Titan War, even had an imaginary argument with Luke Castellan (who she still couldn't believe was alive) in her head. Physically, Annabeth was improving radically. Mentally, however, she was falling apart at the seams.

She'd lost count of how many times she cried herself into fitful rest at night, horrified by the prospect of losing Percy or any of her friends. Already her half-sister had died, as had Nyssa and probably numerous more people she couldn't even remember. Leo's remarkable reappearance had come as a relief, his corny jokes welcomed. But it hadn't quelled the fear in her chest. How could everyone come back from the dead? With that dynamic, the structure of the universe would unravel.

That night was one of the many insomnia-plagued ones. She, among others, had been offered the First Cohorts barracks for living arrangements. Leo, Jason, and Piper all slept in her barracks, Piper above her and Leo and Jason on the opposite side of the door. Most of the time, Annabeth could suffer in silence, but tonight hit her with violent night terrors. She tossed and turned and whimpered as terrifying images flashed through her mind's eye. Almost all of them involved Percy's death. Some featured a ritualistic dismemberment that Annabeth was forced to watch from a wall on which she was chained.

It was the worst of them all, and it kept returning even after she borrowed Piper's Dream Catcher in a futile and superstitious attempt to keep the dreams at bay. It always started the same. Annabeth was in chains, bloody and bruised, hanging limply from the arms of her escorts. They dragged her lethargic form to a black wall with trails of water running down. It was a dark cave with nothing but a green fire to illuminate the space. It was quite roomy. She could vaguely make out the silhouettes of other prisoners across the cell, either lying weakly on the floor or hanging from shackles like she was.

When she heard her boyfriend's rabid yell, it wasn't an exclamation of his pain. Percy was tied down to something that looked unsettling like The Rack from The Spanish Inqusition, his face deformed from numerous punches to his chin. He was bloody, his clothes so tattered that he had shed his shirt. His stomach, well-chisled from years of exercise, was littered with shallow cuts that bled furiously.

It was a nauseating sight to behold.

But Percy didn't seem concerned with his personal suffering. The only thing out of his mouth as he thrashed around wildly on the torture device he laid on was, "Let her go! Damn it, I don't care what you do with me, just let her go!" Annabeth could hear the brokenness in his voice, and for the first time, she believed Camp Jupiter's claims that he had attempted suicide. Gods knew if Annabeth ever discovered his death, she wouldn't be far behind.

"Percy!" She wailed, lunging toward him. The chains rattled against the wall. The monsters carting Percy to her cackled, spinning him perpendicular to her, a taunting scant few feet away. Annabeth fought with everything she had to reach him, and Percy fought with equal frenzy against his binds. But neither of them could defeat this foe. They couldn't escape. They couldn't break free. They were both going to die alone in here, forgotten by their friends.

A monster got to close to her one time and Annabeth managed to wrap her legs around its neck, classic movie style. Percy cheered for her, but his feet were bound as well as his hands. He threw his head up, trying to hit the monster chuckling above him. But it was useless.

The monster eventually suffocated and burst into dust. Annabeth sagged against the wall, exhausted, but the other demons didn't seem bothered by their friend's death. They mulled about, doing whatever horrendous acts were status quo for them. Annabeth shot a desperate look at Percy's, whose uselessly breathtaking green eyes were wide with fear. He was pleading with her wordlessly, conveying his horror through his eyes. But if there was a single message about that look, Annabeth missed it completely.

Tears welled in her eyes. Then the monsters started cutting into him.

Three monsters each took two separate knives, somewhere between combat knives and machetes, and bowed the razor sharp edges to Percy's skin. They sliced shallowly at first along his joints; where hip met leg, where shoulder met arm, along his collar bone. But then they retraced their steps, cutting a little deeper every time. It was torment for Annabeth, watching the man she loved suffer that badly. Percy's face was contorted in suppressed pain, his jaw set so firmly it would probably never unclench. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction of screaming.

But it wasn't his decision to make. A blood curdling scream issued from his lips, and the monsters started chanting in a language older than Greek. Older than anything Annabeth had ever heard before. The language of creation. The language of beginnings. The language of evil.

As they chanted, a drum started pounding steadily. Percy's cries filled the cavern, and Annabeth stopped screaming. She just hung there, silently pleading with them to let him go.

"I-" Percy gasped, arching his back. "I swear on the Styx I won't let you die here, Annabeth."

And then the water flooded through the entrance, crashing forth like broken from a dam. Annabeth sucked in her breath and waited for death.

~1~

"Ahh!" She screamed, sitting bolt upright with rivers of sweat pouring down her brow. Above her, Piper, Frank, Leo, and Hazel loomed. They all looked fretful.

Struggling to control her rapid breathing, Annabeth brought her fears under control. She wasn't in that cavern. Percy wasn't dead. He was fine. He was alive. She was going to see him again, soon. Slowly, she recomposed herself. But the darkness was too petrifying to spend one more second submerged in it. She gasped out as she turned on the bedside light, "What's wrong?"

They all looked taken aback. Piper was the one who spoke first. "You don't know?" In the new lighting, Annabeth could see the tears on her face. Why had she been crying?

"What don't I know?" she demanded, swinging her legs over the side and hastily slipping into her tennis shoes.

As she tied them, Piper stumbled over her words like they hurt her. "I can't believe you don't...where have you..." She couldn't seem to finish a coherent sentence. Finally, tired, hungry, and cranky like no other, Annabeth snapped and lunged toward her. "Jason's dead!" she screamed, staggering out of reach just as Annabeth hand grasped thin air.

Bewildered, the daughter of Athena stared at her. Several moments in which she struggled to make sense of what she had just discovered passed. Annabeth had never really known Jason, so the revelation hit an almost indifferent heart. Not to mention she was thoroughly exhausted, and the only things on her mind was Percy. Just Percy.

Then she thought about the exclamation the way Piper would. What if it had been Percy? What if Percy was dead and she was telling Piper in between tears. She would be the worst friend in the world if she simply patted her on the back and said "there, there." So she did the practical. She thought about a dead Percy and broke down into hysterics.

"Piper, I'm so sorry." The daughter of Aphrodite shook her head, sobbing softly. Annabeth stroked her hair, voice hoarse and wet from crying. "I know you loved him."

"But he died thinking I didn't!" Piper wailed, pulling away. "I told him I didn't! I do, but at the same time, I don't. Leo died because of him, Piper, but he wasn't really thinking when he took that parachute, and..." She covered her head in her hands. Annabeth sat back on her heels, disbelieving. She caught Leo's eye and he mouthed,_ Yeah. Asshole_. So apparently he wasn't all broken up over the loss.

But no, that was wrong. Leo's eyes were bloodshot, his face smeared with oil. His hands moved too quickly to perceive; a surefire sign that he was distraught and distracting himself. Whatever he'd have others believe, Leo was as hurt from the loss of his friend than anyone. Possibly more. He was just used to pretending otherwise.

Annabeth decided that if it was his way of coping, he could digest for a couple days before she cornered him and made him talk about it. Everyone needed an outlet. Leo's was just based on denial.

After quite a while of bawling and consoling, they huddled up on Annabeth's bed and talked revenge. "The person who did it was taken into custody. According to Reyna, he's already been executed." Supplied Frank, who seemed the most together after the death. Annabeth guessed it was the fact he never really got to know the old praetor, but it probably also hinged on his reluctance to cry. Must have been some manly complex to not let anything get to him. Stupid testostorone. Percy had it too.

Annabeth nodded, conflicted over the execution. The rat deserved what he got, but then again, information would have been valuable. Whatever he knew about Gaea was lost on the wind now, but there was no turning back. Finally, Leo interjected. "I was thinking about Othrys. You know, about people being dead and alive and that confusing stuff? What if Jason is there? I mean, I was dead, and then I wasn't. Maybe they can't control who they let out. It's just kind of a broken dam or something."

Annabeth considered it. It would make sense. Death was a dangerous and fragile fabric in life that had to be monitored. Without devote control, it could unravel and reduce the world to ruin. Human nature was to fight, and a war with no conclusion, no true casualty rate was impossible to ever stop. It would rage on into eternity, a man's bloodthirstiness capable of overriding the conscience of right and wrong. With consequences, death and murder would mean nothing. And that was certainly the outcome if Leo was right. Nobody died. Everyone lived indefinitely. And Gaea's control would be a mute point. She couldn't dictate men, but she could destroy them.

Perhaps that was all she wanted. Her son wanted power. She wanted desert.

"It makes sense. I can definitely believe it." She had to believe it, actually. It had been so long since she saw Percy now. If he had died and she never found out, she just wanted to think that he could come back to her. Somehow.

Frank and Hazel nodded agreement. "Yeah, makes sense. Gwen died a while ago, but she came back. I really don't think Gaea was a big fan of that. It let us on on to her whole captured Death thing." Annabeth turned to Frank, pursing her lips.

"I'm not sure about this, but..." Annabeth bowed her head. "It's worth a shot. And if you're right, then the Seven are still intact. It's something to hope for, at least."

Piper nodded tearfully. "Yes," she agreed. "Hope is all we have left." She laid a hand on Annabeth's shoulder, smiling slightly. "We can't ever lose hope."


	30. Chapter 26

**Chapter Twenty-Six: Prisoners**

Octavian was powerful.

He had always been, of course. His skill and intelligence exceeded everyone, including the know-it-alls descended from Minerva and Athena. His wit and knowledge was far beyond those feeble minds of the few fools who dared to control him. His power was unrivaled. Save, of course, for those pesky immortals with eternity to gather information and discover.

But, if everything went as planned, that wouldn't be a problem much longer.

The toothless, limping pirate hunkered anxiously over the battle map, aggravating Octavian. His temper had been significantly shorter ever since the faceless bastard had killed him, along something inside him suggested that it might be Levesque's older brother, the ambassador of Pluto. But that was ridiculous. Nico di Angelo was safely ensconced in Gaea's restricting earthen grasp. Son of Pluto or no, he should no hope of ever escaping.

Especially once that Mark of Athena was handled.

"No!" shrieked the irksome harpy from the sliver chains on the wall. "No chains. Chains bad. Ella wants books. The Sibylline Books. Destroyed by order of Stilicho, most powerful man in Roman Empire. _Wisdom's daughter walks alone/The Mark of Athena burns through Rome_."

Octavian's already tried patience snapped and he threw a hard-cover at the unhelpful bird. "Enough with those lines, you useless _captivus_! I need more than just the Mark of Athena! What does she burn in Rome? Why does she walk alone?"

The harpy's wings fluttered fruitlessly against the wall and she wailed. Octavian covered his ears; afraid they were ruptured, and let out a tortured scream of his own. "Will you _shut up_?" he roared. "Unless you have something useful to say, don't say anything at all!"

Finally, the beast cowered into submission under Octavian's firm gaze. Satisfied, the former augur lowered himself into his chair and returned his attention to the battle map. "Me men n' me can take the sou'rn route, 'long the Mediterean." The pirate, Abner, supplied in what Octavian assumed he thought was a helpful way.

"It's Mediterranean!" he snapped. "The Mediterranean Sea, you imbecile! And enough with your disjointed, uneducated language! If you're going to talk to me, you're going to do it in a way I can understand. None of the unintelligible bullshit! Am I clear?"

The pirate hastily groveled for Octavian's forgiveness, but his words were still difficult to interpret. So, with a wave of his hand, he had the nearby Cyclopes carry him away. The crutch he had been leaning on clattered to the floor.

Octavian ran his fingers through his hair, exhaustion weighing on him. But if he ever hoped to win back the respect and adoration of Mother Earth, he had best straight pushing past his tiredness and showing his greatness despite. Not overly difficult, he mused. There was a surplus of it.

"Howard," he sighed, snapping his fingers. His recent partner, Howard Whiting, sauntered to the wooden table at which Octavian sat and leaned in, dark eyes twinkling with curiosity. A razor sharp dagger hung at his side and the ever-convenient Desert Eagle handgun was sheathed in its holster. Octavian was good at hiding it, but he was as shocked by the advancements as Levesque, if not more so. Everything had changed so quickly.

It was Octavian's fourth life, not counting the recent escape through the Doors of Death. Octavian recalled, bitterly, how Gaea had forced him to hunt down the Doors because she was tired of simply giving him the easy road. After everything Octavian had done and all the deaths he had suffered for her, she had the gall to refuse him help?

It doesn't matter, he reminded himself. Soon, not even the Earth will be able to stop you.

The thought brought a smile to his face as he demanded the report from Howard. "How are things with our undead prisoners? They remaining orderly?"

Howard scowled. "Mostly. There are a few radicals who still try to fight us. They seem to think the di Angelo girl is some kind of martyr."

Octavian's hand clenched at the word "martyr." "What?" he demanded, rage boiling anew. He caught his loss of a temper and reminded himself that Gaea placed so much trust in him because of his ability to remain indifferent in the face of major setbacks. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "That will not do." He said levelly. "Bring her up here. No chains. I've seen the condition that girl is in. She couldn't fight even if she wanted to."

Howard looked skeptical. "I don't know, Octavian." He said, looking down the staircase of the mostly constructed Titan stronghold fearfully. "She seems so...untouchable."

"Excuse me?" the augur demanded, anger getting away from him again. "I've seen her down there, covered in blood. She is anything but untouchable."

"Not invincible, Octavian. Untouchable. Like whatever we do to her won't work. She looks...well, she looks-" Howard spat on the side. "Hopeful."

Octavian narrowed his eyes and slowly rose from his seat, hand finding Howard's collar and gripped it tightly. "Hopeful?" he echoed incredulously. Howard's eyes filled with fear as his feet left the ground. "Well, we can't have that, now can we?" Howard shook his head furiously. Slowly, Octavian set him down and shoved him against the wall, next to the harpy, who immediately started screaming again. "I want her broken!" he roared. "I want her shattered like glass all over this black marble floor! I want her begging and pleading for us to have mercy! I want her completely and totally destroyed!"

Octavian whirled around and pointed sternly at the staircase. He heard Howard's booted footsteps as he descended, but held up his palm. "Wait," he said, turning. Then, with a smile, he added, "Humiliate her, publicly, before you bring her in."

Howard's face twisted into a cruel, sadistic smirk of his own. "How humiliated?" he asked.

Octavian laughed and Howard joined in. "However much you see fit, dear friend. Make her wish she had never been reborn."

And Howard laughed all the way down the staircase, his psychotic chortles echoing around the half-built palace, rank with foreboding pain and strife for the unfortunate daughter of Hades.

Percy free-floated for about a moment, disembodied, but then the world came crashing down.

He tumbled out of nothingness, the harshness of reality already registering throughout his numbed senses. At first, he couldn't quite pinpoint any location on his body; everything was numb. But gradually, he regained sensitivity, starting with his tingling fingertips. He probed along the ground, which, he noted curiously, was bumpy and riddled with sharp protrusions and grooves. His fingers built up a light layer of moisture and he assumed the ground was wet, or at least damp, as he couldn't feel the coolness seeping through his clothes quite yet.

Then the pain struck.

Percy understood that it had only been a delayed reaction. The injury had been sustained when he tumbled out of that writhing mass of light behind him and scraped his face against the ground, he just hadn't known it. But now he did.

Instinctively, he covered his face with his hands, roaring with incoherent agony. His cheeks burned as though from acid when his yet undamaged flesh touched the wounds, flaring up viciously from the moisture and salt content in sweat. Dazedly, he noticed the heavy flow of blood oozing from his wounds and onto his fingers, coating them in sticky warmth.

His eyes welled with tear and he was half-blind for several minutes, trying to decode the fragmented, blurred images received by his distracted mind. As the picture filtered out and cleared, Percy felt the overwhelming urge to move.

He found out a second later when a screaming body came tumbling out of the colorful portal behind him.

Percy rolled aside not a second too soon as the newcomer threw out their arms in a futile hope of alleviating the impact. Although smarter than Percy's face-plant, the method still proved folly as their palms slipped on the wetness and were torn open by the rock. Their arms collapsed under their weight and Percy saw the disaster before it struck. Hands still bloody, he lunged forward and steadied them before they too could feel the pain of landing face-first on solid rock.

No sooner did his hands grip the stranger's shoulders than they spun onto their back, fingers gathering a bunch of fabric from his collar as they pulled him down to eye level. Percy wanted to pull away, but they held him fast, storming blue eyes driving into his skull. Stupidly, he registered that they were blonde and male.

"Where am I?" They enunciated carefully. "Where's Piper?"

Percy didn't know who Piper even was, but he figured she must have been pretty important to the blonde for him to react so aggressively on her behalf. He suspected he had something like that, too, but in the heat of the moment he couldn't quite remember what.

He tore the blonde's grip from his shirt, feeling the fabric give as a result. A bracelet of crimson appeared around the blonde's wrist. "I don't know." The blonde scrambled to his feet, eye flashing.

"You don't know, or you're just not going to tell me?"

Percy rubbed his neck thoughtfully, glowering at the blonde. He was really starting to dislike him. "I don't know. Hades, I don't even know who Piper is." He rolled his shoulders back, eyes searching the horizon for some landmark. If he were in Manhattan, or at least New York, he could identify location almost immediately, but all he could see was a steep vertical incline with paths paved from greyish-black rock jutting out at various angles like treacherous steps all the way to the peak. And at the peak was the start of each of three lines, ascending from about the middle of the mountain. The entire thing was obscured by a dense fog, natural and divine Mist swirling around and blotting the whole thing from view. The farther up the mountain the lines went, the harder it was to see anything clearly, eventually becoming more like watching a shadow play than real people. But he could just make enough out to count.

The string of people consisted of broken individuals in bloodied clothes with misshapen faces and gunshot or stab wounds in their chests. The closer ones, Percy could clearly make out their back. One's shirt seemed to be almost completely soaked with fresh blood dripping onto the ground. Another was simply unbelievably filthy with clothing that was so shredded it hardly even stayed on their shoulders. But every single one of them looked dejected, abandoned, and hopeless. Patrolling along their sides were armed guards, and although through the mist Percy couldn't tell if they were monsters or not, he knew they weren't friendly. Every now and again, a gunshot or whipping sound would echo, tumbling over the cliff side and ricocheting off the facades of the mountain, ominously warning all not to trespass unless they wanted pain and death.

"Hades?"

The echoing question shocked Percy from his inspective and borderline sympathetic thoughts. He started, realizing all too late that he had cursed in a way most mortals would cock an eyebrow at. And, sure enough, the blonde was staring at him skeptically.

Percy hastily backpedaled, mind reeling to come up with a logical explanation for his profane use of a Greek god's name. "My mom," he decided. "She loved Greek mythology, always reciting stuff. I got it from her." The blonde didn't look reassured, probably because Percy more or less blurted his justification at mock speed. In a desperate attempt to redirect his attention, Percy thrust out his hand and smiled. "I'm Percy."

"Jason." The blonde clasped his hand in an iron grip, not breaking eye contact for a second. Something tingled in the back of Percy's mind at the name, a dull reminder. But he couldn't seem to recall what. Jason turned his eyes to the horizon too, widening them when he saw what was happening.

Percy nodded to himself, thinking about a plan. He had nothing. "We've got to get those people out."

Jason muttered his agreement, already moving toward the lines. But then, suddenly, Percy's arms were held fixed to his sides by a strong, oppressive guard. He tried to turn to see who, but he couldn't contort his body enough. A Cyclops lumbered out of the darkness and grabbed Jason before he could call out in sympathetic alarm for Percy.

They both struggled vainly against their restrainers, snarling and cursing as they tried to break free. Percy even thought he heard Jason say something along the lines, "You're the cousin of Medusa twice removed on Echidna's side!"

He couldn't help but commend him on the insult.

Their captors carried them, immobilized as they were, up the mountain and deposited them in the back of two separate lines. When Percy turned to attack the Lastrygonian (he should have had it pegged by the smell) a debilitating electric shock raced through his body. He screamed in agony and lost all control of motor function, convulsing from the shock to his system, and his knees buckled. The electricity continued to course through his body, leaving every single one of his nerves exploding in undeniable pain. He clenched his jaw, trying to struggle past the torture, but he couldn't. It continued for several more excruciating minutes until finally the rod administering his shock treatment was pulled away.

He glanced to his right at a sadistic dracaena holding the electric rod millimeters away from Percy's body, threatening him. "Move along." She hissed, jerking her head toward the line, now shuffling forward a good three feet in front of Percy. The snake-woman slithered away to handle newcomers, which were being brought to the lines in almost the exact same way as Percy and Jason had been. But a Cyclops stayed right next to Percy as a reminder about how painful resistance would be.

As Percy moved up the mountain, he started to notice things on the other side of the Mist. A heavy, partially built fortification being assembled by hard laborers lugging around massive chiseled rocks and depositing them on pulleys. Sweaty, sallow workers pulled the ropes that lifted them tens of feet, bordering on a hundred, and more people on scaffoldings took the offerings and dropped the rock are preset mortar. Sickly individuals with trowels stood by to slather on the lime and cement mix.

It was truly a land beyond the gods where innocent people suffered the tyranny of monsters and ghouls they never believed to exist.

But there was something else Percy noticed about the prison camp (that was the best explanation he could come up with). It was thoroughly devastated. It looked like there had been a huge fight here, demolishing partially erected buildings, leaving weapons and ash kicked up everywhere. Monsters patrolled virtually every inch of land, animalistic searching to resistance. The scent of paranoia was heavy in the air, but beyond that, there was the feeling of hope. Like a hero was going to get there to save them all.

Percy glanced over at the Cyclops who was dealing with a screaming little girl who didn't want the ugly monsters to get close to her. Percy chanced a look at Jason, who was studying the scene with the same eyes as he was. _Maybe_.

When blue eyes met green, an unspoken agreement passed between. And Jason mouthed the words, _"What the Hades?"_

It must have been intervention from above that Percy even saw the movement and was able to decode it. But he knew something for certain. Those electric eyes only came with a son of Zeus, and all of the sudden, Percy remembered everything. Camp Jupiter, Luke, and Emily hit him in a rush. He remembered losing Camp Half-Blood to an earth-shattering explosion, and he remembered the imprisonment of the undead on Mount Othrys. But most of all, he remembered dying for this very cause.

He looked over the newly erected monuments and thought, "Burn it down." He turned to Jason and nodded. Simultaneously, they yelled "Olympus!" and chaos erupted.


	31. Parting Words

**I realize having Author's Note as independent chapters is not permited on . But considering this story is no longer running, I don't think it matters.**

**I'm sorry, readers. I simply couldn't write anymore. I had a reviewer, Louisa4533, who hit it on the head with a precise hammer. I didn't want to believe her at the time, but she was right.**

**I started writing this story at a very bad time for me. To put it simply, I was depressed. I'll save you the boredom of details, but I used this story as an outlet. A dangerously unhealthy outlet that I kept coming back to. It was my anchor to times when I was miserable and no matter how hard I pulled against my chains, they wouldn't break. So now, my only chance, is to take the damned key and turn the lock.**

**I'm letting No More Death go. But I understand that I don't have a shortage of fans. A lot of you really want to see where this goes. So I'm offering it up for adoption. I never thought I'd surrender any of my stories to the tumultuous seas of Fanfiction writers, but now I am. But I do have conditions.**

**You may start the story from wherever you like in the list of chapters. I recommend you do use my preordained chapters until where you branch off, just for continuity's sake. Before I pass off the torch, so to speak, I would like to see three of your intended chapters to be used. If you start at the end of where I am and end before that number, you have two options; if I chose you, you may permit me to copy-and-paste the chapters onto Doc Manager and upload them onto this story, or send me continuation chapters into Closing Death. The number three is nonnegotiable. **

**I would also like a plot-line. By that, I mean a basic rundown of where you're taking it. If you plan on killing characters without utilizing the grand thing known as The Doors of Death, I will know them. If you plan on introducing your own characters, I would like a character sketch. I will not allow Mary Sues in my adopted works. If I offend one of you by calling your OC a Mary Sue-tough. She probably is. Or he. By the way; run your character through this site, . . It's called a Mary Sue litmus test. It was introduced to me by a friend and it works beautifully, for original and non-original works. If I suspect you have not run your character through the test, I will do it for you and give you the score. The threshold for a Mary Sue is 40.**

**I am strongly considering ripping off the Half-Blood Quips from this story, however, and writing another thing with those little humorous stories. I did enjoy writing those. It is not a reviewer poll, however. It is off my own choice. I'm tired of working to please you people when I know some will like my work and others will absolutely despise it. I do not live to please anyone but myself.**

**After I am confident that you will not butcher my idea, it is yours to run wild with. I don't mean to limit your creative horizons, I mean to broaden them. I'm not a control freak who doesn't like her stuff mangled. So help me, if Jewel of Dimensions gets a slot in this site once I'm done with it, I'm liable to have a coronary. **

**I would like to conclude with a few cheerful words: Firstly, my hatred for Jason Grace has been largely diminished. After reading Mark of Athena, I deduced that he was merely slightly underdeveloped in The Lost Hero and Riordan needed more time to flush him out. Now, he's actually an enjoyable character. However, Piper McLean has turned into a full-fledged Bella Swoon and I will have blood for this. She had such potential. **

**I will be posting The House of Hades as a fanfic as well. I am too anxious for the fourth edition that I'm resorting to my own sources of entertainment to pass the time. You are warned: unlike the other fanciful authors on this site, I do not believe Riordan is giving us either Percy or Annabeth's POVs next time, especially not both. The best we're going to get is dream-visions of their time in Tartarus. And alas, fans of the greatest pairing known to bookworm kind, do not expect overwhelming fluff.**

**Enough said.**

**I will try to stay truer to Riordan's form. Believe me when I say I'm making it less depressing. What is Heroes of Olympus without a love triangle, but I won't make it so hard hitting. I'm working on letting go, everyone, and I'm sorry to say I'm starting with this.**

**Remember, send in your requests over PM for adopting this story. I really enjoyed your inputs, and I will be continuing Forgotten Fear, The Curse of Tartarus, and The Aftermath. I am also working on a heavy-hitter right now (M rated) that I will end with a happy note, although getting there is difficult. My stories are coming slow due to my overflow of ideas for my own novel and the demand for stories from my friends, coupled with the stressful chaos known as finals. I'm a little overworked everyone, but this is not a spur of the moment decision. I've been considering this for a while, and I now have my answer.**

**I know I'm breaking a promise. But sometimes, oaths need to be broken before you draw your final breath.**

**Sincerely, **

**thein273 **


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